Keep Your Enemies Closer
by BlueStarMusicGeek
Summary: Spy!AU. When you have a life full of secrecy, it's easy to get confused between truth and lies or right and wrong. There are bound to be a lot of difficult decisions and situations. For instance, when you have to choose between revealing your biggest secret or betraying someone's trust, do you follow your head or your heart?
1. Where It All Started

**Author's Note: **Hi there! Thanks for taking the time to read this. Here are a couple of things you should know first:

1. Characters in this story might seem a little bit OOC at first, but that's because I believe that experiences change and shape you into the person you become. By the end it'll make sense, I promise.

2. This story is in Kurt's POV and therefore the first chapters will have severe lack of Blaine as Kurt's backstory is revealed. This will then lead up to their first meeting (in Chapter 7). There are also a few OCs as well as characters you'll recognize later on.

3. Currently I've written almost 10 chapters of this story with the plot all figured out so updates will be once or twice a week. I want to keep a few chapters ahead so that I have more to update even if I have lack of inspiration.

Also, if you've been waiting for the sequel to _The Chains That Keep Us Together_, that's still happening, but I've been busy lately (I fractured my wrist and my laptop completely died on multiple occasions) and I want to get some more of that written before I start posting it. I just so happened to get more inspiration for this.

_Warnings_: Implied character death, may be slightly upsetting to some readers (but it gets better!).

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. All mistakes are mine.

Happy reading! :D

**Keep Your Enemies Closer**

**1. Where It All Started**

My life was always complicated.

My mom died when I was just eight years old. It was a car crash; a complete accident. At least, that's what they told me. I loved my mom, she was never around much when I was younger, neither was my dad, but the time that we did spend together as a family was nothing short of perfect.

Elizabeth Hummel worked for a company that arranged holidays and trips for groups; school children, clubs, the disabled, the elderly, etcetera. This meant that she had to be away a lot to sort things out. Burt Hummel was a mechanic. He went away a lot for conferences, conventions, that sort of thing. Or so they said.

My parents were never away at the same time. They had been once, when I was four, but I'd apparently been left with smelly Aunt Mildred and had cried for the whole two weeks they were gone.

When Mom died, it got even worse. Dad still needed to be away a lot and he wasn't very good around the house, which was when he hired Jamie. She was kind of like the housekeeper, but without the official title.

Jamie Clarke had moved away from England to try and find a life for herself in America, no one ever thought to question why she'd picked Ohio and not somewhere more glamorous. But Jamie, although young, was great to me and took good care of the house. She wasn't messy and she didn't drink, smoke or bring rowdy friends round to the house. She was perfect.

I grew to love Jamie as a friend and was already used to not having my dad around all the time. It wasn't really the ideal life and I missed having Mom there, but it got easier with time. I still had my dad and I knew that Jamie was there for me, so life was good.

But of course, life was never going to stay that way forever…

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"Hey kid, do you think you could-?"

"Charlie, I know what you're trying to do. This is the fifth time you've asked me to get you something that I know for a fact you don't need. If you want to speak to your girlfriend then call her already. Stop the secret texting. I'm not my dad, I'm not gonna shout at you for using your phone here." I rolled my eyes.

I was thirteen years old, I wasn't an idiot. I'd been helping out at the garage long enough to know what the other mechanics were up to. I used to sit in the office all day watching them when there were no repairs small enough for me to do. It was fun; people watching.

"Nothing gets past you kid, does it?" Charlie laughed, ruffling my hair. Charlie was a happy man who had worked at the garage for years. He was the kind of person that you never saw depressed or upset; he always had a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye.

"Hey!" I protested and batted the hand away. Why did everyone seem to have a thing for doing that to me? It was irritating.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll just be five minutes I swear." Charlie promised, already backing away to make his phone call in private.

"Just go! I can handle this." I assured him, shooing the man away.

"I don't doubt you can. Thanks Kurt!" Then he was gone.

I sighed; I'd been helping out with the cars for as long as I could remember anyway, it was like second nature to me. I just wished that people would stop treating me like a kid. I was thirteen; technically I was a teenager anyway.

Working at the garage was fun. Some of the stories people had as to how they'd caused the damage to their cars were hilarious. Also, it was just something for me to do.

Being an only child, I didn't have very much to do with my time. There was no one around at home to do anything with and there was no one at school that I'd class as my friend. Everyone detested me and I was bullied for being different. I hadn't come out to anyone about being gay and yet somehow the whole of school had found out. Even people a couple of years younger than me were harsh.

So what if I liked show tunes and musicals and fashion? Why did that make me any less of a person than everyone else? Of course, the kids at school didn't do anything that I'd class as serious, but that wasn't the point. Being shoved into lockers and being thrown offensive slurs wasn't exactly normal. Yet otherwise I was simply ignored. No one spoke to me, no one cared.

In the whole world, I only had Jamie, my dad and the people at the garage that cared of my existence. For anybody, let alone a thirteen-year-old kid, that had to hurt.

I may have been quite stereotypically gay, but I fixed cars and I watched sports with my dad whenever I could. I didn't pretend to understand whatever I was watching, and I didn't really pay attention because I wasn't that keen on football, but I watched it to spend time with my dad. Those times were becoming even fewer.

Lately, Burt had been spending more and more time away from home. There was always something. First it was a get together with some of his old friends from college, then it was a high school reunion, now Dad was away to see some great uncle or something that I knew absolutely nothing about. It was getting ridiculous.

I understood that my dad had a life and would need to be other places, to see other people apart from me. Of course I understood that, that was fine. But I didn't understand why it was _all _the time. It was just…it was stupid, and I knew it was stupid, but I just had this feeling sometimes that…well it was like my dad was just making excuses.

But it was more than that. I felt like my dad was purposely making excuses not to see _me_. It was ridiculous, it was my dad and I loved him, but the feeling just wouldn't go away. The worst part was that I didn't understand what I was supposed to have done wrong.

I was a good kid, that's what people always told me. I was mature for my age and I would help out my dad with the garage and Jamie with the work around the house. Even though it wasn't asked of from me, I'd do it. I always helped them out and never complained.

Although a lot of things were going on in my life, I somehow managed to carry on with everyday things. I was strong like that, but I had to be. If I wasn't strong I'd fall apart.

Things so far that day had been pretty average. I'd got up, had breakfast with Jamie, showered, changed and gone straight to the garage. What else was I going to do? Unfortunately, so far there were no funny stories, and only common, simple repairs to do this morning. Nevertheless I wasn't going to complain to that, not today.

Today I was waiting for a phone call from Dad. He hadn't spoken to me in a few days and I wanted to hear his voice again. I loved Jamie, and spending time with her was fun, but I really wanted to see my dad. I missed him. That's when the phone rang.

I raced to the phone as fast as I could and put the phone to my ear before so much as even taking a breath. I was just _that_ excited.

"Dad?" I asked, already knowing the answer. I was kind of breathless.

"_Hey kiddo, how are you?"_ There was something about just hearing my dad's voice that made me instantly feel happy and safe.

"I'm good, how are you? How are things there?" These were pretty basic questions but I doubted that my dad would have time to actually listen to me. It was better to keep the conversation brief.

"…_Huh? Oh yeah, yeah it's great." _

"Are you okay? You sound sort of distracted." I frowned. Dad usually paid at least some attention to me.

"_No I'm fine." _Burt reassured, though it sounded rushed and completely unconvincing. There was some kind of noise in the background that I couldn't place, it was better just to ignore it.

"Right," I said, though it was posed as more of a question. "So you're coming home today, aren't you?"

"_I should be. I'll try to get back some time tonight. I love you, Kurt." _That roughly translated as 'I doubt it. I could be back but you better not get your hopes up. I love you but I'm only really saying that as a sign that I need to get off the phone now.'

Unfortunately, I was used to this by now. It was something of a regular occurrence.

"Oh, yeah, love you too Dad. See you later I guess." He had already hung up the phone before I could finish the last sentence.

I sighed and slumped into the office chair. The first time I'd gotten to speak to my dad in days and the phone call lasted less than a minute. _Well that's just great_ I thought sarcastically. Why were there always such abrupt endings to everything in my life?

When my mom died, I thought that I'd be okay as long as I had my dad. That was what some creepy therapist had told me; it was just the two of us versus the world. Yet it seemed like we'd grown even further apart, not closer together. My dad's trips had become more frequent and lasted for longer, so we hardly even had a chance to talk.

The rest of my day at the garage seemed to go by as a bit of a blur, but it was agonizingly slow at the same time. Charlie tried to joke with me as usual but I could only give a weak smile in return, I wasn't really in the mood for laughing anymore.

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"Sorry, what was that?" I asked, remerging from where I had been trapped in my own thoughts. I was sat at the table with Jamie, supposedly eating my dinner. I didn't really feel like eating right then, so I was actually just moving the food around my plate with a fork.

"You haven't been listening to a word I've been saying have you?" Jamie asked, her head tilted to the side slightly. After having lived in America for five years by then her English accent wasn't as strong as it used to be, but it was still noticeable.

Jamie had auburn hair in curls down just past her shoulders (natural, of course) and kind green eyes. She was pretty in a not overly obvious way and never wore make-up. She was quite geeky actually; always reading and not going out very often like most people her age, but she was a great listener and good to talk to.

"I'm sorry." I apologized again, even though there wasn't really a reason to.

"Is this about your dad again?" She sighed upon seeing the look on my face, dropping her cutlery. "You shouldn't let it get to you. That's just the way he is."

"I know, I just…" I finally looked up from the plate and looked her in the eye. "He's so distant. I feel like I hardly know him anymore."

"It'll get better. Kurt, I've known you for five years and you're a great kid. Your dad loves you, just because he goes away a lot doesn't mean that he doesn't care about you."

"I guess. But, sometimes I really wish I knew what was going on his head, you know? I wish I knew what he really thought of me." But more than anything I wished that I got to spend more time with him.

"Look Kurt, if it's bothering you so much then you should talk to your dad when he gets back. Spend some more time together; get to know each other more. You know your dad will talk to you if you need him. He cares about you, and he can't help not being around a lot." Jamie reasoned.

She was right, of course, but it didn't mean that I didn't still have my doubts. I decided to be quiet now and not say anymore on the matter. What help would it be?

"I guess you're right. Yeah, I'll talk to him." I nodded; it seemed like a reasonable idea. Why not?

"I'm always right. Now come on Kurt, where's that smile of yours?" She ducked her head to try and catch my eyes and I did smile, despite my mood. It was small, but it was genuine. "There it is!" She teased. "Now eat, I don't make this food for nothing."

I shook my head at the silliness of her actions but obeyed anyway.

"Now, like I was saying before…" Jamie launched off in a grand tale of the day's events and I let myself daydream as she did. Jamie was lovely but she could speak at a mile a minute, she wouldn't actually notice if I wasn't listening.

I decided that I should talk to my dad. I knew him enough to know that he wouldn't be making me feel this way on purpose. Maybe if I just spoke to him about it…

I didn't know what I wanted to happen from me speaking to him; I had no expectations at all. But at least that way I couldn't be disappointed, and I'm sure things between us couldn't get any worse. After thinking this I tuned back into Jamie's one sided conversation.

"…So I've just come out of this shop and my hands are so full of bags that I can't even raise my arms properly. Then this old woman comes out of nowhere, no shopping at all, and expects me to open the door for her just because she's elderly. I smirk, open the door for her, with great difficulty may I add, and then I decide I'm not that nice and I let it slam in the bitch's face!" Jamie told me excitedly.

"You did _what?_" I laughed.

"Well who does she think she is? She didn't have a walking stick, a crutch or anything, with me having that many bags she was more able to open the door than me! Also…"

For the rest of the night I listened obediently to Jamie's crazy stories, happy for the distraction. My life may have been far from perfect, but in that moment I was happy.

…And then that moment ended.

"Kurt, maybe you should go to bed now. It's getting late." Jamie said hesitantly. I was huddled up on a chair in the front room with a blanket around my legs. I'd been staring at the window for the last half an hour, waiting for the flash of headlights that would tell me that my dad was home. It wasn't looking good.

"Just another five minutes." I mumbled weakly. My eyes were starting to ache and droop and my voice was cracking from tiredness. If nothing happened soon I wasn't going to be awake for much longer. Dad wasn't usually _this_ late home.

"Kurt you've been saying that for ages, just go up and go to sleep. I'm sure your dad will be back when you wake up. Torturing yourself isn't going to make him get here any faster. You need sleep." Jamie said calmly, she was always the voice of reason.

"'M fine," I muttered, my head rocking forward as I almost fell asleep there and then.

"Bed, Kurt. Now," There wasn't any point in protesting, I was struggling to stay awake. I dragged myself upstairs and practically collapsed on my bed.

Despite my tiredness I couldn't fall asleep. My restless mind made my whole body restless and no matter how many times I shifted and turned I just couldn't get comfortable and fall asleep. Soon I was more awake than ever.

I couldn't stop thinking about my dad –about everything that was bothering me. Eventually I was just thinking about everything, there was nothing that didn't cross my mind. My head was driving me crazy and I willed for my mind to shut up. It was hours before I got to sleep.

When I did wake up, I wished I hadn't. I woke when I heard knocking at the door. It wasn't inconsistent, intoxicated messing around though; it was precise, short raps on the wood. There were no drunken slurs in the background; I couldn't hear any voices from my bedroom. Whoever was knocking was doing it with intent and reason.

The silence that followed was unnerving. Groaning I turned to my alarm clock and the lit digits told me it was a little after four in the morning. When you get visitors at that time it is never a good thing. I heard shuffling and a door closing and presumed that Jamie had gotten up and was already heading downstairs. There was no way I was going back to sleep so I threw off my covers and forced myself to get up.

I rubbed my eyes with my palms and plodded along the hallway. I was halfway downstairs when I heard it.

"Hello Miss, I'm sorry to come knocking at this hour, but would I be right in assuming that this is the house of Mr. Burt Hummel? Also, that you are Miss Jamie Clarke?" The voice was formal and stiff, with an air of importance.

"Yes, you would." Jamie answered politely, although there was an edge of suspicion in her tone.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news considering the whereabouts of Mr. Hummel, if you would be so kind as to invite me in. You might want to sit down."

No. No, no, no, no, no. No. My hand was gripping onto the banister so hard that I was scared that it would snap. But it wasn't my main concern. He didn't even have to say the words, it was all in his tone, and I knew what had happened. Yet at the same time I willed it not to be true. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't.

Already tears were pricking at my eyes, threatening to fall. But it was stupid, I told myself, Dad was fine. He'd be staying in a hotel somewhere. He was fine. He wasn't… I couldn't even bring myself to think the word.

"I'm fine standing thank you." Jamie said calmly. Clearly her thoughts weren't on the same trail as mine. "Would you care to tell me what is going on?"

"Miss Clarke, I'm sorry to inform you that Burt Hummel…" He was fine. He was fine. My dad was okay. He was in a hotel and he was fine. He was- "Mr. Hummel is dead."

I don't even know what happened next. One minute I was standing on the stairs trying to convince myself that everything was okay, and the next my knees gave way and I collapsed in a heap. I just couldn't stop crying. It couldn't be true, it simply couldn't. My dad wasn't dead. There'd been a mistake.

My whole body was shaking and I somehow managed to keep quiet. I was silently sobbing and every thought I'd had over the last couple of weeks was floating around my head at such a pace that I instantly had a headache. Everything ached.

Memories of Dad kept flashing through my mind which just made me cry even harder. The effort it was taking was making it difficult to breathe but at that moment I could do nothing but think irrationally and just cry.

I can honestly say that I have never cried so hard in my entire life. Not even when Mom died. My coping mechanism when that had happened was my dad, and now I didn't even have him. I'd never felt so alone and so helpless. And it hurt, so much. It physically hurt. It hurt so freakin' much that I couldn't even comprehend it.

It was all pain and agony and tears and I was still crying when the man left and Jamie went to walk up the stairs. She didn't even know I was there. I had no idea how long I'd been sat there crying.

"Oh Kurt," She said with her voice thick with emotion. "I am _so_ sorry." It wasn't going to be the last time that I heard those words but I knew that she meant it. She sat- no, collapsed next to me and held me in her arms while I cried, which was for a very long time.

But thinking back, I know why I was so quiet. Children cry for attention, little kids will fall and scrape their knee and burst into tears just so that they'll be fussed over, that's why they scream and wail. Silent crying is different. People cry silently simply because they are unable to stop.

**End Author's Note:** I'd appreciate any feedback or comments you guys could offer. I love hearing your opinions so please leave a review. Thanks!


	2. Where Curiosity Can Lead

**Author's Note:** Hello again. Thank you for the response to the first chapter, especially those of you who spotted the Doctor Who reference, I hope you enjoy the second installment of Keep Your Enemies Closer!

**2. Where Curiosity Can Lead**

The next few days were a bit of a blur. I didn't do much else but cry. I had the week off from school which was a welcome adjustment, but in some ways being at home was worse. Everywhere I looked I saw my dad, literally. His photos were everywhere. It used to help me cope with him being away all the time but he was away now and he was never coming back, the photos currently made it hurt even more.

As cliché as it sounds, I felt lost. I just didn't know what to do with myself. I was so miserable, and I had no one there to help me feel better. Jamie was miserable too. My dad was the one that gave her a home when she had no one; of course she was going to feel bad as well.

I felt like the whole world had stopped and this massive weight was pressing down onto me, crushing me, and I was trapped. I was trapped in this little bubble of not living. Because that's what it was, I was hardly even alive. I was just this shell of a person with only one emotion.

My favorite part of the day was the second after I woke up. That was the one moment where all I could remember was the fact that I'd woken up and nothing else. But then straight after all my memories come flooding back to me and I remember that I no longer have any parents and burst into tears.

I never used to cry like this, I never used to get upset by anything. I think I had a pretty good reason to cry though.

I can't really define one day from the next during that time so soon after my dad's death, but I do remember some things.

I know that there was this one time when I was sitting in the kitchen wearing one of Dad's shirts and a pair of my sweatpants; it's hard to believe that I owned such a thing back then. I must have looked ridiculous because I hadn't done anything with my hair and the shirt was so big that it was falling off my shoulder. But there I was, sitting, just sitting. I would say that I was thinking but I was such a mess that if I _was_ thinking then I doubt it would be anything rational.

I was sitting with a cup of coffee between my hands and I was looking towards the front door. I wasn't waiting for my dad to walk through it, I wasn't _that_ out of it, but I was imagining the click of a key in the lock and how I'd feel if Dad really did walk through that door.

The part of me that still had common sense knew that it was impossible, but it's not like I had proof that he was dead. I mean I know that there'd been the big formal announcement and the fact that my dad hadn't come home or contacted us in any way, but I hadn't _seen_ that he was dead, not that I wanted to…

Anyway, aside from all that, what proof was there? …Yeah, I guess it does sound pretty obvious when you put it that way, but I was thirteen, okay? I didn't want to admit it to myself. It was bad enough that I had no mom.

Luckily, I was able to regain the strength to move and talk as a normal person on the day of my dad's funeral. I hadn't even noticed anyone organizing it. I was still miserable; I knew I was never exactly going to be bouncing off the walls, but it still felt so fresh in my mind. It had been a week by then and it had gone by without me even realizing.

I stood in front of a full-length mirror and sighed. I was wearing a traditional type of suit; it was all black, worn with a black tie and black shoes, my white shirt only succeeded in showing how pale I was. I didn't look like me; my hair was a total mess and I looked lifeless with my blank expression. Even my eyes had decided to look depressed, seeming more grey than usual. I didn't have my usual shine, probably because I looked how I felt.

Jamie looked stunning; I may have been gay (-not that I'd told anyone by then) but I could tell when a girl looked attractive, and Jamie really did. Her dress hugged her perfectly and her styled hair looked amazing. It was just her expression that spoilt it; she looked miserable too. But this whole thing was so depressing. I was only thirteen and I already had to say goodbye to my only remaining parent.

I'd always hated funerals. I didn't get why people looked so sad and wore black. People keep going on about how you aren't remembering their death but you're celebrating their life. If it was a celebration then why was it so freakin' depressing?

I mean, when I die, I wouldn't want the people I loved to sit around in really unfashionable clothing talking about how lovely I was. I'd want them happy and smiling and wearing spectacular outfits in lots of colors. I'd want them to talk about happy memories together and remember me for who I was.

In fact, in my will I'd even state that I didn't want anyone looking miserable or wearing black at my funeral. I could understand them crying, but I didn't think that was what a funeral was about; you shouldn't just go depressing everyone around. That's what I told myself as Jamie drove up to the funeral.

I thought the whole concept of a funeral was messed up; calling it a celebration of life didn't make the death hurt any less. Yet, I quickly realized that it wasn't the funeral I thought was messed up, it was life itself.

Good people die, that's just the way it is, especially when you always imagined that they'd live forever.

The whole thing made me feel uncomfortable. First of all, there was the church. I shivered just to look at the place. I was an atheist, and I was (am) gay; I seriously didn't belong in a place like that. Secondly, it felt so _wrong._ Why should this guy stand up in front of everyone talking about my dad when he never even knew him? None of the service felt personal; it was like something scripted that had probably been read for other people a thousand times before.

There were no speeches, just a load of quotes from the Bible that I didn't even understand. It was weird, because I just felt numb. I knew the body of my dad was lying motionless in the coffin in front of me but it didn't upset me, it basically just freaked me out.

I looked around me during the service, trying to avoid eye contact with crosses or anything else religion related. There was Charlie sitting behind me with his girlfriend and even he looked different. It was rare that I saw him frowning but right at that moment it felt like even his eyes were doing so. He gave me a part smile upon seeing me watching him before turning back to the front of the church.

It was weird to see everyone so plainly suffering from all these different emotions when it suddenly as if I _couldn't _feel anymore. Or at the very least I didn't.

There weren't that many people there that I recognized to be honest. Some old lady that lived a few doors down and stank of cat, a couple of other guys from the garage, they were it really. But then I saw something that really confused me.

On the back rows was a group of people, male and female, and all wearing some kind of suit. Most had sunglasses on despite being indoors and all sported the same kind of blunt expression. I had never seen these people in my life and yet there was some kind of familiarity about them. Even though most of their faces were covered I could tell that some of them looked genuinely upset to be there. As far as I knew they didn't even know my dad, but they must have.

My curiosity was abruptly stopped when Jamie nudged me and whispered to ask if I was okay. Her eyes were brimmed with tears and she was really concerned for me. I nodded curtly and turned back to the service with a lot less interest than before (which is saying something because I wasn't that interested in the first place); I was intrigued more by something else.

Eventually we went outside and I watched them lower my dad's body into the ground. I didn't cry, having cried so much beforehand that I was pretty sure I was unable to anyway. Jamie was sniffing horrendously and I grabbed her hand and clung on tightly more for her sake than for mine. I felt like I should have given her a small reassuring smile as well, but I couldn't find the happiness to do it.

Directly across from me were the group from the back of the church and I watched them inconspicuously for a while.

One of the women whispered to a man to her left and he nodded in reply. It startled me a little bit because it was the first time any of them had really moved, but more because he had nodded towards me. I looked away as if I hadn't noticed but my head was filling as questions started to form in my mind. Who were these people?

As if I wasn't startled enough, one of the other men in the group lifted his hand up to his ear and it exposed some of his shirt that was previously hidden under his open blazer. It wasn't the shirt that startled me; it was what was strapped onto it. He had a holster with a pistol in it.

My eyes widened upon seeing the object but the man quickly realized his mistake and shifted his blazer to cover it again. It was so quick that I probably would have missed it had I not been previously watching him. But I knew what I saw.

That's when another strange thing happened. Of course the service had carried on even now and I was barely listening to what the man was saying but one word in particular caught my attention; patriotic. He called Dad patriotic. That was probably the first time I'd ever heard that word used in connection to my dad.

Granted I had come to realize that I didn't know my dad quite as much as I would have liked, but he wasn't exactly patriotic. He had nothing against America or anything, he just wasn't _patriotic._

I didn't get it. There were so many things I didn't understand: why my dad had been called something like that, why this dude had a gun, who those people were, and even why my dad had to die. It was Dad's funeral and I should have been focusing entirely on him, but I just couldn't.

Everything felt so wrong.

Once the service was over and people started to drift away I figured that I'd never see that group from the back of the church again, I'd just have to go back to my crappy life and pretend like everything was normal. However that didn't happen.

To put it bluntly, I was annoyed. If I had to listen to one more stranger saying how sorry they were for me that my dad had died I was going to scream. They didn't even know me, why would I care what they thought? Newsflash, the word sorry _doesn't_ make everything better.

I understood that people felt the need to apologize because it seemed to be what was necessary by society, but society is stupid. People should try to think of something a little more original to say to the mourning family –old words tend to loose meaning.

I was standing alone while Jamie had gone to sort something out. I sighed, hopeful that the last sorry had been said as I undid the top button of my shirt and tugged on my tie a little.

"Kurt?" I turned towards the source of the voice expecting to see another sympathetic face that I had to endure. Instead, I saw the man and woman from the group, the one's that had possibly been whispering about me.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Kurt. I'm sorry that it had to be under these circumstances." I held in a growl as I heard that dreaded word again.

The man in front of me was middle aged and seemed very… it was hard to think of a word to describe him. He seemed very business orientated, put it that way. Just by his expression you could tell that he was a man that liked to get things done. He had dark hair and dark eyes but didn't look threatening. He seemed fairly harmless without his sunglasses on so I saw no harm in replying to him.

I didn't actually know what to say but luckily he wasn't done with talking. As I said, he appeared to be that type of man.

"Allow me to introduce myself," He continued, it wasn't like I had a choice but to listen with the rate he was talking. "I am Matthew Moore. Your father spoke very fondly about you." He finished with a smile that seemed somewhat forced.

Possibly this was because he wasn't a man who seemed to smile very often, and the effort it took to appear happy was displayed clearly on his face.

"That's funny, he never mentioned you." I replied simply. I had no reason to be polite so I just said what I thought. His smile flickered for a moment but he quickly contorted his face again.

"Well he wouldn't, as I understand he was a very busy man." It almost seemed as though _Matthew Moore_ was challenging me. I said his name over in my mind, it had a certain ring to it, but as of yet I wasn't sure if it suited him.

"You would know." I replied a little more harshly than I had intended. In my defense, it was hard to reply at all with the amount of thoughts going through my head.

"I'm Miss Jenkins." The woman at his side stepped in; I noted that she didn't bother to say her first name. Curious, I thought.

She couldn't be too far into her thirties and looked just about as friendly as Mr. Moore. She had waist length brown hair and sharp eyes; I felt slightly nervous under her gaze but didn't let it show.

"So how exactly do you know my dad?" I asked, intrigued once again but for their answer.

"Oh, we've worked together. I've known him for quite a long time now." Mr. Moore cut in. It didn't feel right to refer to him as Matthew.

"Oh, right." I said, making sure that they knew I didn't believe them. There was more to it than that, I knew there was. Seriously, like _he_ would be a mechanic, that's the only job my dad told me that he had. I doubted he knew anything about cars at all. I looked over to Miss Jenkins in expectation.

"I'm just an old friend." She said with slight hesitance. Worse than that, she scratched the side of her nose as she spoke.

"Don't do that." I said calmly. Being a target to many cruel jokes in my school it helped to know when people were lying to me.

"What?" She asked, startled.

"You're lying to me." I explained. "I can tell that anyway from the guilt written into your expression and the uncertainty in your tone but you make it worse with your body language." She stood there opening and closing her mouth like a fish as I inwardly smirked at the victory. _Ha._

"I-" She stammered.

"Oh, there's no need to explain." I stopped her. I wasn't going to say anything else but the look on their faces was so satisfying that I decided just to go all out and show _just_ how smart I was. "I'm sure the whole lot of you have your secrets. It wasn't coincidence that all of you sat together in near identical clothing with matching expressions and half thought out reasons for being here."

I wasn't entirely sure who the 'you' was that I was referring to, but she seemed to get the point.

"You-" She really did choke that time.

"I'm not even gonna ask about the gun I saw because I'm pretty sure it wasn't the only one hidden amongst you. But really, you could have thought of a better excuse than work." I aimed that part at Mr. Moore. "I don't doubt that you did work with my father, but as a mechanic? Not a chance."

There was something else going on, their reactions were enough for me to know that. But what it was? I couldn't be sure.

"I can assure you that-" Mr. Moore started. He was a lot calmer than Miss Jenkins but his silence during my abrupt speech wasn't simply him being polite, he was taking his time to think of something to say.

"See that's the thing, isn't it? You can't assure me anything. I may be young Mr. Moore, but I'm old enough to tell when I'm being lied to." Over their shoulders I saw Jamie heading back and took that as my excuse to leave. Although I have to admit that I loved watching them choke and stutter as I outsmarted them.

"Now I don't doubt that we'll meet again when you come to see me with an excuse that you deem as reasonable and a compulsive need to explain yourselves, or in other words, lie to me even more. So until then, I'll be going. You have fun with your little secrets." With that, I walked off, feeling quite impressed with myself. It was nice for a distraction for a little while.

My dad always said that no one messed with the Hummel's, and I think I was just beginning to understand what that meant.

As I left I heard one word that made me even allow myself to smile a bit.

"Wow." Yeah, I think that pretty much summed it all up.

Though there was one thing that was still bothering me. Without even realizing it I had said 'So how exactly do you know my dad?' –Present tense… They didn't seem to notice. Maybe I was more doubtful than I originally thought.

But just like that I dismissed it.

**End Author's Note:** Any reviews much appreciated. I _love_ hearing your thoughts.


	3. Confessions Bring Us Closer

**Author's Note:** Hi again! Thanks for sticking around for the third chapter of Keep Your Enemies Closer.

Just a quick note to _DancingTimeWitch_ (because I can't PM you), in answer to your question, no, not exactly… I love those books too and a lot of the content in the first few chapters will probably seem to be inspired by them in some way but that isn't the case once the plot develops. Thanks for reviewing! :)

**3. Confessions Bring Us Closer**

I was late to school the first day going back, but only just. I'd been caught up so much in my own thoughts the day before that I'd forgotten to set my alarm. I'd been about to style my hair when I stopped and realized that I didn't care what the people at school thought of me, so what was the point? One day with messy hair wasn't going to bother me all that much, and it wasn't the total definition of bedhead.

I looked and felt different that day. For once I actually wasn't scared of what was inevitably going to happen when I walked through the doors, if someone had a problem with me, well screw them. What did I care? It felt good, I had no idea where this new attitude had come from, but I liked it. There was no more shaking defenseless Kurt; I was going to stick up for myself today.

I stood outside the double doors leading into the school building for a moment to ready myself. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the glass I stood a little taller upon seeing my determined expression and pulled my bag up higher on my shoulder. Then I placed a palm on each side of the door and pushed.

Never will I forget what I saw next. The corridors were as busy as always but for once in my life not a single person there looked at me in disgust. It started with one person turning their head and doing a double take and suddenly everyone was watching me in shock. Honestly, I'd only not styled my hair, and yet I must have looked totally different; because I had confidence.

I raised my eyebrows a little bit at the reaction but quickly accepted it and tried to hold in my smirk. With one hand I clutched the strap of my bag to stop from doing something embarrassing like punching the air and I started strolling down the corridor.

Usually I'd try to stay out of the way, keep my head down and try not to be seen. Today I was walking down the corridor like I didn't have a care in the world.

As I got nearer to the crowd they started splitting down the middle and I realized that they were clearing a path for me down the center of the corridor. So badly I wanted to take pictures of their expressions or pinch myself or laugh in their faces but I kept my dignity and looked straight ahead as if I didn't even notice them. Some amazing feeling was rising up in my chest and I wanted to squeal but I didn't and it just felt… _wow._

By far the best reaction was when I walked into my first class. My main tormentor was in there joking around. I didn't care about him enough to ever learn his name. He was leaning back on his seat with his feet up on his desk and as soon as he saw me he choked and fell backwards off his chair, but no one was laughing.

Well, no one was laughing except me, but that was internally.

Everyone was expecting me to act as I usually did, quiet and trying not to get anyone's attention; no one who was bullied would stand tall and look unfazed. That's why the first few days back were carefree and easy for me.

I was still suspicious though, there was no way people would stop bullying me just because I was confident again. At first they were in shock, but soon they were back to normal.

It started off fine. Well, not fine, but manageable. It was the whispers first; I didn't really care all that much when they started, it was funny how people made it so obvious that they were talking about me and yet thought I hadn't noticed. They'd stand in groups and keep looking at me and then back at each other. Sometimes they used hushed voices; sometimes they were so loud that I could hear my name mentioned; some were so close to me that I could read the words straight from their lips.

I still didn't care. They could say what they liked about me; frankly I was honored that they could take the time out of their precious little lives to think about me. Surely that amount of brain activity was rare for them.

It was when I was sat in class that it happened. I couldn't escape the whispers or the stares and it was more annoying than anything else. I was sat on the right hand side of the room, leaning against the wall and trying to concentrate on the teacher, but some kid called Aaron was sat behind me trying to wind me up.

Aaron wasn't that much of a bully, he was just one of the popular guys who'd do anything to keep their 'friends' respect and would adjust to any type of trend. Whatever anyone else was doing, he'd copy. I guess that tormenting me was more of a hobby than anything else.

Without turning around I could imagine his smirk and the way he was leaning over his desk to talk to me, eyes trained on the teacher in case she turned around. It started off in really unimaginative ways, all of it was stuff I'd heard before and there were only so many times one person could make a gay joke and you'd find it offensive, soon it got tiring.

Then he said something that _really_ got to me.

"Hey, orphan boy, I heard that your dad got so sick of you that he committed suicide. I'm not surprised; I'd feel sorry for anyone having to live with you. Saying that, to have you as a son he must have been-"

At that point I physically couldn't stand it anymore. I had clenched fists and I really didn't want to hear the end of that sentence. You could say what you liked about me, but when my dad got involved…

I stood up so fast that my chair went toppling over and everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and all turned to look at me.

"Mr. Hummel, if you'd like to-" I presume the teacher was about to say something about sitting down or leaving the room or something else that teacher's think is witty to say but really no one pays any attention to. I wasn't listening. All I could hear was my thudding heartbeat pounding in my ears and I felt my anger taking control of me.

My head was spinning and I had my palms on my desk from when I was pushing myself up and I just had to get out of there before I did something stupid. So I ran.

I only ran out into the corridor and leant back against the wall just out of sight from the door. I hardly ever got angry, and it terrified me how much I'd wanted to punch Aaron just then. Violence wasn't exactly my thing, but when he'd insulted my dad I had almost snapped.

Rubbing my palms over my eyes I sighed deeply, tilted my head back against the wall and tried to relax my breathing. Was life always going to be this difficult?

My teacher understood enough to not follow me after I'd ran out of class and I spent the rest of it walking around the corridors and enjoying the quiet. Aaron wasn't in my next class and no one mentioned what had happened, at least not to me, no one spoke to me and I thought that maybe it'd be okay.

Just before the end of the day, I was pushed into a wall. Ignoring the pain that shot up my shoulder I spun around to see the retreating figure of Aaron.

"What _is_ your problem?" I yelled after him, before I could even process what I was doing. As soon as I saw Aaron all the anger started to return again and I suddenly had no idea what I was even saying. But honestly, what had I ever done to him- or to anyone for that matter?

Aaron stilled and turned back to me.

"I'd have thought that was obvious." Oh, so his problem was me now, was it? Right, sure, why not? I was so _sick_ of people judging me.

"Look, you don't even know me. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Why can't _you_ stop spreading your fairy dust everywhere? It's disgusting. Like I've said, I'm not surprised that your dad-" He was only being this harsh because a crowd had started to gather.

I didn't doubt that he wasn't that nice a person and only cared for his popularity and reputation, but I could tell that he wouldn't do this if it weren't for that. He didn't have the same act as some of the other bullies. He was more of a scared little kid, but then, I guess so was I.

"Shut up about my dad or I swear you will regret it." I exclaimed suddenly. I saw the flicker in his eyes of shock but then it was gone and there was coldness in his eyes.

"Or what?" Maybe it was the cruel look in his eyes, maybe it was the almost snarl on his lips, or maybe it was his arrogant attitude, I don't think I'll ever know. All I knew was that I was so wound up with everyone treating me like crap all the time that I took out all the rage in a single burst.

It was like an out of body experience, I really wasn't thinking straight- no pun intended. I smirked, something I _never_ do, and tilted my head to the side slightly at his challenge. Some kind of life force took hold of me and possessed me to pull my arm back and punch him square in the face with all of my strength.

No one knew how to react; they were all just standing stunned… and somewhat impressed. I had a major adrenaline rush and even I was shocked by what I had done. I guess I never realized how strong I was until that moment.

My hand really ached and I'd hit Aaron so hard that he'd fallen backwards and tears had sprung to his eyes. His nose had started bleeding and despite how much I despised him I still hoped that I hadn't broken it. As far as I knew no one had gone to get a teacher so I wasn't in trouble yet and it was the end of the day anyway so I just turned around and walked away.

News travels really fast in school so as soon as I got outside I ran home and didn't look back. I was supposed to be walking today anyway but there was so much adrenaline rushing around my body that I really needed to run. I could not believe what I'd done but there was something so satisfying about the feeling I'd just had that I couldn't bring myself to care.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't exactly planning on hitting someone else anytime soon, but I was somewhat glad that I'd done it. For once I'd fought back.

There were loads of thoughts running through my head but at the same time I wasn't thinking at all. I felt really high on adrenaline and I made it home in record time. Jamie was surprised when I ran in and straight into the kitchen where she was sitting at the table reading a book.

"Woah Kurt, are you okay?"

I nodded frantically and was practically bouncing up and down across from her; my heart was pounding so much that I couldn't keep still.

"What happened to you, Kurt? You aren't usually back this early and- oh gosh, what happened to your hand?" I looked down to where my hand was on the table and noticed that it was an angry red; it would definitely be bruised in the morning. It actually looked quite painful but because I was buzzing with energy I'd hardly even noticed.

"I punched Aaron in the face." I said as casually as you can manage when you're that hyper. I must have looked insane; I didn't doubt that I had a crazed look in my eyes. If you added in my messy hair to my appearance… yeah, you can see why Jamie was so confused.

"You did what? Kurt, why would you do that?" Jamie seemed to be getting upset.

You know that when some people are drunk they have a no-brain-to-mouth filter? Well that's what I was suffering from; only this was due to adrenaline, not alcohol. So I spilled my heart out to Jamie and as she listened, her expression started to soften, and she started to understand.

"I'm bullied at school, and I've pretty much always been bullied but I've never said anything because my parents were never around and at first I didn't know you well enough to trust you with it. I was scared, and then I didn't want to tell you because I was so ashamed and I thought that you might be annoyed if you'd find out that I kept it from you for so long.

"But I've always coped with it, and it's just started to get normal for me to hate going to school. I hated always hiding it from you and Dad and the people at the garage and I always hoped that you'd never have to find out, but at the same time I wished that someone would notice and I wouldn't have to put up with it anymore.

"The teachers don't care. No one cares. But today I just got so sick of it when Aaron said something about my dad. 'Cause he's dead, Jamie. My dad is never coming back and this guy thought he had the right to torture me about that too. So I snapped; I hit him.

"Yet it felt so right that I'd finally managed to react to it. I have this _crappy_ life and I have _no idea_ how I'm gonna go back to school and face it all again. I'm trying to be brave, and to not have to think about them but it's just so difficult and I hate having to lie to you, because right now you're all that I've got."

I didn't know how I'd managed to go from this massive adrenaline rush to revealing almost everything that I'd tried so hard to hide for years, but I did. It felt like a massive weight had been lifted off my chest just to say it out loud; even if I'd spoken unbelievably fast.

There was a silence between us and for a moment I was scared that I'd said something wrong and Jamie was angry with me.

"Oh Kurt. You should have said something." I looked up from where I'd been staring down at the floor and saw that Jamie was crying. Tears were streaming down her face and suddenly I felt awful.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." I said, not realizing that I had tears filling my own eyes too as I thought about everything that I'd been going through alone.

Jamie laughed softly.

"I can't believe how strong you are, Kurt. You've been facing all of that for years and you've never told anyone. I wish I was as strong as you. Come here." My feet moved of their own accord and I was in her arms.

"You know at first I only came to America to get away from my parents." She said softly.

"What?" I asked, startled. Jamie never spoke about her life in England. She looked at me with a small smile.

"They were always trying to control me, telling me what I had to do with my life. I had to be the perfect kid and they always had that image for me. I hated it. I just wanted to find out what I wanted to do for myself, but they were constantly there trying to influence every little decision I made. They tried to live their lives through me."

"I'm sorry." I said honestly, that sounded awful.

"It's not your fault. But do you know how old I was when I snapped?" I shook my head, though I think I could have guessed. "I was thirteen. I was in my third year of high school, because the school years are set out differently there. I decided I'd had enough of private school and got myself excluded just so I could go to a normal school like everybody else.

"They were furious of course, but I still managed to finish high school with good grades. I made some of the best friends I could ever wish for in that school. As soon as I saved up the money to move here I was gone. It didn't take too long because I'd been saving secretly for years and I had some other relatives who were willing to help me out.

"When I got here, things didn't go exactly to plan with no one over here to support me. I didn't know anyone in the U.S. Luckily I found your dad, and I ended up here looking after you. You know the story from that point.

"…My point is that none of it would have happened if I hadn't snapped that day and decided to live my life the way I wanted to, but I wouldn't have it any other way, because I have you.

"Don't be scared about going back to school, Kurt. I snapped, and look where it got me. Things can always get better." I figured out just how little I'd known about my only friend up to that point. I supposed she was right, and I was glad that she was still there to support me.

"It's horrible that they bully you at school. I don't understand why anyone would hate someone as great as you." Jamie added.

Maybe it was because so many things had been happening around that point in my life, maybe it was because of the confessions, or maybe it was because my head was so scrambled at that point that I had no control over my mouth. I don't think I'll ever know, but one of those things caused me to say what I did next.

"I'm gay."

It was just a whisper, and part of me hoped that it had been too quiet for Jamie to hear, but I knew that if I didn't say it now it would be years before I got the courage to tell her.

I was so scared, what if she left me now? What if she was homophobic? What if she hated me? What if-?

"I know, and I don't care." She held me tighter as she spoke.

"What…?" I was so overwhelmed with emotions that I choked over the word.

"Honey I've always known. The very first day I met you we sat and watched _The Little Mermaid_ and you gushed about how cute Prince Eric was. You told me that you wanted to find a prince one day too. It doesn't matter to me who you fall in love with in the end, you're still Kurt."

I burst into tears and clutched at her jacket while she calmed me down. I was so used to being hated for who I was that it was a huge shock to hear her being so nice to me. I'd finally come out.

"Thank you." I poured my entire heart and soul into just those two words.

"There's no need to thank me, frankly I'm just glad that you finally decided to tell me. I was getting slightly offended." I laughed lightly and attempted to steady my breathing.

"I love you so much." I sighed.

"I love you too honey, no matter what."

**End Author's Note:** It's great to see that people are reading this but I'd love if more of you could review so I know what you think of it too. As always, feedback is much appreciated. Thanks!


	4. Discovering The Truth

**Author's Note:** Hope you enjoy the next chapter. This will explain a lot, although I wonder if any of you guessed what was going on already…

**4. Discovering the Truth**

"Please Jamie? Please, I am literally begging you." I whined.

"You know I'd let you stay home if I could Kurt, but you have to go to school. I thought you didn't want to run away from it." She pointed out. I rolled my eyes.

It was the next day, and I really couldn't stand to go back to the hellhole also referred to as my school. It was Friday, what was wrong with having a long weekend off?

I was sat on the stairs with Jamie in front of me with her hands on her hips, staring down at me.

"It's _not_ running away, it's just…" I hesitated, unable to think of a reason.

"It's just….?" Jamie prompted with a smile that was almost a smirk. As much as I loved her, that smirk really didn't suit her.

"I've already faced up to it! It'll be worse than ever if I go back. Please Jamie. What if everyone's after me? What if I get hurt?"

"Don't say stuff like that Kurt, you know I have to send you to school." Jamie said apologetically.

"Okay, okay, I get it; fine." I huffed. I did understand that Jamie had no choice, but it didn't mean that I had to like it. I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door with a sigh.

If only I could do puppy eyes…

"I'm sorry, Kurt." Jamie called out sincerely.

"I know." I replied, more to myself than to anyone else.

Walking to school I moved with my eyes trained on the floor and my head down. Due to this posture every now and then I'd scuff my shoes and almost trip over but I didn't really care. I knew I was being a little bit over the top, but I felt so bad about stepping back into that school that I didn't exactly know how to react.

I shrugged my hands into my pockets and then froze and stopped walking as one of my hands brushed a piece of paper. I didn't remember putting anything in my pockets so I closed my hand around the object and pulled it out cautiously.

In my hand was a ripped out piece of sketch paper with blue ink that read in a tidy script:

"_It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not." ― André Gide, Autumn Leaves. Xxx_

I smiled despite myself; trust Jamie to do something like this. Nevertheless, I understood the words, at least I was being true to myself; it would be worse if I lived a lie.

I think I was so distracted after that moment that I almost walked straight into someone. It's only when I saw another pair of shoes directly in front of me that I finally looked up. I opened my mouth to apologize before I noticed who it was.

"Oh. It's you. I wondered when you were going to finally think of an excuse." Of course it was Mr. Moore, and Miss Jenkins was just a few paces behind him.

I should have been surprised that these two people had found me on my way to school, maybe I should have been a little freaked out too, but I wasn't. For some reason I felt like it was to be suspected from them. Besides, it was a distraction from my normal life.

You know how I always welcome distractions.

"Hello Kurt, it's nice to see you too." I rolled my eyes at Mr. Moore's reply, I still wasn't sure about his name, but sarcasm _definitely_ didn't suit him.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, but if you'll excuse me, this isn't the time; I have to get to school." I tried to step past him but he moved directly in the way. I sighed and looked up. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything Kurt, but it would be nice if you could come with us. There's a little something we need to talk to you about." He didn't sound sinister but it wasn't exactly a kindly tone to his voice.

"Look, you might say that you know- I mean _knew_ my dad," God, I really was going to have to get used to that. "But no matter what you say, I don't know you, and I'm not an idiot. I'm not walking off with strangers."

"I understand that Kurt, but I'm afraid that this is not a negotiable matter. We've already phoned your school, everything's been arranged." Mr. Moore explained. I took a step back, startled.

"I don't care if it's '_been arranged'_, I'm not going _anywhere_ with you. I don't _know_ you." I said each word slowly and punctuated it carefully. Some people would say that I was always stubborn; I'd rather see it as being determined.

"We aren't trying to force you into anything, Kurt. We just thought you'd like to know the truth." Miss Jenkins took over; I'd forgotten that she was there at all. However, it was what she said that affected me.

"What do you mean '_the truth'_?"

"Like you said Kurt, you aren't an idiot. Surely you've seen that there's something going on here that you don't yet understand; something involving your dad and us. Of course, you don't have to find out, you're welcome to walk past and forget all about us. But I'm pretty sure that you don't want to go back to that school at the moment, do you? I'm sure you do want to know the truth."

Damn them and their stupid manipulating skills.

I hesitated.

"There's only one way to find out now isn't there? So what are you going to do, Kurt?"

I knew they were going to get their own way in the end regardless of what I did next. Grudgingly, I gave in. They gave me their word that nothing bad was going to happen to me, but I didn't know them well enough to trust them so it didn't do much in the way of reassurance. I felt uneasy the whole time.

When we finally arrived at the location I realized that I had no idea what I was doing there and where I was. It just looked like an ordinary building. I was confused and my head was spinning but I managed to navigate my way after them and inside the building.

They were obviously aiming somewhere inside but the route was hard to follow. We twisted and turned around corridors, went up and down stairs, entered room after room after room. It was like a maze, and yet they were doing this on purpose; I could tell it wasn't just walking to confuse me further. Clearly they'd walked this route a hundred times before but it was so random; sometimes you had to enter through certain rooms and not once did we go to the same place twice.

Despite never actually telling me not to look while they typed in passcodes and pressed secret buttons they angled away from me and I could tell that I wasn't supposed to be watching, so I didn't. Whatever was going on here was weird, but I couldn't help but be intrigued.

Finally, after at least ten minutes of endless walking back and forth we entered an office. As I dragged myself into the room I felt immensely disappointed that this was it.

It just looked like an ordinary office; a filing cabinet, desk, some chairs, even a plant in the corner. It all looked so normal, but at the same time I knew that it couldn't be.

"I'm sorry about all of that, please, take a seat." Mr. Moore gestured for me to sit on the opposite side of the desk that he was on. Miss Jenkins simply stood just off to the side and I wondered what part she actually had in this. She seemed to be very quiet, but then, it was obviously Mr. Moore that made the orders.

"You could have installed a lift." I commented with some sarcasm as I flopped down into the seat and pulled my bag off my shoulder and onto the floor next to me. It seemed the casual thing to do, but internally I was really tense.

"Now that would completely defeat the object."

So there _was_ a point to all the walking back and forth. It was supposed to be a hard route to follow, because they didn't want anyone to follow it. If anyone got in they would either get lost or never be able to find what they were looking for. By then I was certain that this wasn't just an ordinary building, it was purpose built. But, why would anybody want to break in?

Whatever secret this building was hiding I was fairly sure that I was about to find out. While that excited me, it scared me half to death as well. I didn't know if I wanted to find out the truth after all. Despite everything I had managed to decipher so far, I had no clue how this was supposed to link in with my dad.

"So Kurt, we're just going to state this simply and I need you not to freak out for me, okay?" Mr. Moore said in the same tone I'd use to speak to a six year old… not that I spoke to six year olds. I'm just saying, it sounded annoyingly patronizing.

"Okay." I sounded unsure of myself because they seemed so serious.

"We're secret agents." I took one look at their faces and promptly burst out laughing.

"Really? That's the excuse you took all week thinking about. You're spies?" I struggled to even speak through my laughter. "Oh my God, how old do you think I am?"

"Kurt-" I was laughing so hard that I didn't even give them chance to say anything else. Actually I even stood up from my chair to talk to them.

"You're spies, right, that's why you have your sunglasses and your shifty behavior and the building with all the twisting corridors and keypads? That's why you had the gun and you dress like characters from a really bad _James Bond_ film and…and…you found me on the way to school…and…" _Oh crap._

I definitely wasn't laughing now. Actually, I was close to hyperventilating.

"And that's why you remind me so much of my dad, and why he was always going away with ridiculous excuses. That's why he was so distant, because _he was one of you_." I finished with my voice a lot quieter than what is was when I started talking.

"Oh God, you really are, aren't you?" I was whispering now. I don't even know when I started walking backwards but somehow I now had my back against the wall behind me and I tipped my head back onto it as I attempted to breathe again.

They say to expect the unexpected, but this didn't even come into the category. Even in my wildest dreams I wouldn't imagine that people consider the possibility of them meeting spies.

Jeeze, spies didn't enter my mind in any thoughts other than those about spy movies. That wasn't even once a year.

"Kurt, I can understand that this might come as a bit of a shock to you but-" Miss Jenkins had been the one talking.

"Why now?" I interrupted, still more than slightly dazed. "You'll have been hiding this from me for years, so why tell me now?"

I heard a deep intake of breath before the voice.

"Your father always came to the agreement that if anything should ever happen to him, you were to be informed of what he was. He wanted you to know the truth." I guess that made sense, but I doubt that Dad would have said it quite like that. But then, I doubted that I knew him at all by then.

"-And of course, you mother always said-"

"What?" That snapped me out of it. "You knew my mom?"

My tone had softened considerably at the mention of her. It had been five years since her death and the memories that I had of my mother were steadily becoming fewer and fewer.

None of my memories contained visions of my mom associating with secret agents.

"Well yes, she was one of our finest agents too."

…They definitely didn't envision her being one.

I sighed, was there anything else they were hiding from me?

My parents were spies. My mom and dad were –that couldn't be right, could it? This was so messed up. There weren't secret agents in Ohio, don't be ridiculous.

Maybe it was some kind of sick joke. This could just have been a prank on the sad kid with no parents.

Maybe I was dreaming. This was all a really weird, possibly fever-induced nightmare or something.

I even entertained the possibility that I had been drugged, and this was simply a very vivid drug-induced hallucination.

At one stage I even thought that I'd just gone insane and this was an imaginary scenario all inside my head.

Unfortunately, no matter how much I tried to deny what was happening, it was still very much real and extremely unbelievable.

"Your mother always said that she wanted to have you protected from it until you were ready; able to look after yourself."

"While I understand all of that, I don't see how you think that thirteen is a reasonable age for me to be able to look after myself. I'm not saying that I can't, I just don't get how you'd think that."

"That's what I said." Miss Jenkins muttered bitterly.

"Well Kurt, I agreed with all of that up until _this_."

Suddenly he pulled out a remote and a television screen emerged from the wall behind his desk. It was very impressive, I hadn't even seen a join in the wall and I did a double take at the sudden change. Another button was pressed and suddenly an image flickered to life.

It was black and white with little numbers in the corner of the screen that even counted milliseconds running past. It was a CCTV tape and as I looked closer I realized exactly what it was showing. Me.

I was watching a film of myself in my school; a certain event that I'd rather not think about again. It was showing me punching Aaron in the face. While I was proud of what I'd done I was embarrassed about the whole violent aspect of it all and I flushed bright red.

"Oh." That was all I could manage to say. I looked down at my still sore hand in shame.

"It would appear Mr. Hummel that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. Actually, from what else we saw you also appear to be quite a fast runner."

"Well yeah, but-"

"This is why we have a proposition for you." Mr. Moore paused for a moment, as though to study my reaction carefully. I remained calm and gave nothing away. "We were wondering if you would perhaps accept the opportunity to work for us."

For a few long moments my mouth opened and closed as though trying to formulate a reply, but I found that I had nothing to say. My mouth went dry and I struggled to do anything. I was confused beyond belief.

I just wasn't sure what I wanted. I wanted to get away from school, of course I did, but to this? A life that I knew would be dangerous, action-packed and exciting. In some ways it was exactly what I needed, but in others it was everything that I didn't. The last thing I needed was more people to fear, but the thing I needed the most was a distraction; an opportunity.

This was everything; whether that is a good or bad thing I wasn't sure. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for, but something, somewhere must have helped me make a decision because the next thing I said was:

"Okay."

That one breathy, whispered and forced out word changed my whole life.

From then onwards I undertook several training sessions and lots of talks. I filled out legal forms and made arrangements. I explained things to Jamie and reorganized my thoughts.

I became a spy.

I think in some ways it helped to save me. I always had something to do, I was always needed.

At first I wasn't allowed to undertake missions by myself; it wasn't that I wasn't trusted; it was to keep me safe. They took things slowly with me, gradually building up my skills and confidence before I was taking solo missions several times a fortnight.

Being so young was apparently an advantage to them, as it meant that I would never be suspected. I wasn't so sure.

I ended up being quite talented at what I did, and before long I was smiling, laughing and sarcastic all over again. It was like I'd reinvented myself too though. I definitely wasn't the same person I was before. But I loved it- most of the time.

I came to learn why Matthew Moore was a perfect name for the man. He was always asking for stuff and then wanted more- hence the name Moore. Nothing you could ever do was good enough for him; at most he'd be satisfied, but never impressed. Of course I grew to accept it but it didn't mean that I liked it.

Jamie was actually quite accepting of my decision; she worried all the time in case I got hurt but I knew what I was doing- most of the time.

I became quite notorious with the people I worked for, and everyone there accepted me. I never actually made it to high school, I had to pull out. It would be too suspicious if I attended school because I'd have to be absent all the time for my job. I got a private tutor and while it wasn't ideal, I liked it. It was different to say the least. At least I didn't have to sit in classrooms with the same kind of jerks I faced in middle school.

It was hardly the normal teenage life, but it was mine. Yet after all I'd experienced there was still something to come that I'd never have expected. Nothing and no one could prepare me for what was going to happen to me next- not even myself.

**End Author's Note: **Did any of you realize that you were reading a spy fic? I hope it wasn't too cliché, but I haven't found many stories where Kurt is a spy and I wanted to change that –I promise that the plot doesn't become too cliché, it's actually pretty original soon if I do say so myself. Don't forget to review to let me know what you thought. Thanks! :D


	5. Incidents Happen

**Author's Note:** From now on, Kurt's 17, so there's a bit of a gap. Although there is a flashback involved in this chapter it'll be obvious when you get to it, so obviously Kurt will be slightly younger then.

_Partial Spoiler Alert: _There may be the appearance of some other recognisable characters this chapter… I'll say no more, you'll have to read to find out.

Hope you enjoy the next installment of Keep Your Enemies Closer!

**5. Incidents Happen**

I sighed as I mentally prepped myself to walk into the building. Here I was, seventeen and still nervous to open a door and enter a room. No, wait, that sounds stupid, I was scared of what was _inside_ the room.

Most of the time I loved going on missions; the thrill, the excitement and the victory of the results. Today was not one of those days. I definitely did not love missions that should technically have been illegal. Actually no, it _was_ illegal. You'd think that I'd be discouraged towards doing illegal things, but no, as long as I was doing my job no one cared.

Now, when I say illegal, I don't mean drugs or alcohol or clubs or violent fights or illegal betting, no, I mean all five. I was currently stood outside a seemingly abandoned and rundown old building, in a very rough area that you wouldn't want to be caught in on a dark night; alone. So I'm sorry if I seemed a little apprehensive about going inside, but can you blame me?

It was an illegal club where usually ex-criminals would hang out to drink, and smoke things other than tobacco and bet absurdly large amounts of money which would result in fist fights that led to more betting.

_Okay, _I said to myself, _you'll be fine. It's just a building. Sure it may be a building full of ex-criminals more than capable of committing murder, but hey, what's the worst that can happen? _For some reason, I didn't find it all that reassuring trying to think of the worst that could happen.

My objective was actually only to go in there and make sure the suspicions were correct that there was illegal activity going on in there. That way they could figure out a way to stop it. It was a simple enough mission -and pointless enough- _please_, it was so obvious what was going on there and I wasn't even inside yet. But could they come themselves and close the place down? No.

Of all people I couldn't see why it was me that had to go. The main use that I had as a spy was that I was young and therefore looked innocent and wouldn't be suspected. While that may not have been as useful now I was seventeen, it just didn't make sense that they'd send an underage teenage boy. Of course that isn't suspicious _at all_, just like I'm clearly not sarcastic.

Eventually I managed to force myself inside, but I immediately regretted it.

In a word, the place was _grim._ It was disgusting. The room I was in was dimly lit and the only color that reflected off the walls was a miserable grey. It seemed like the whole of the bottom floor was just one room, like it could have once been a warehouse.

Along the majority of one side was a bar, the center of the room focused mainly on a large casino table and at the far end of the room was a big huddle of men all yelling at what I can only presume to be a fight, I couldn't see from the distance. What concerned me the most was the group closest to me; they were all drinking and smoking.

The heavy smell of the smoke and alcohol hit me like a ton of bricks and I immediately started an inner mantra of _don't choke, don't choke, don't breathe it in._ There were so many people surrounding me that looked like junkies or alcoholics that I felt even worse than I did to start off with.

Was there illegal activity going on here? Well, from what I _could_ see in the far corner there was a guy with a black eye and blood on his shirt being handed a large amount of money, there were way too many game chips on the casino table for it to be a casual game and the smoke that hit me was _not_ from tobacco. So yes, yes there was.

Right, good, I could leave and never come back, better to quit while you're ahead. I wanted to run as far away from the place as I could but suddenly a large group of rowdy drunks pushed behind me and I was sent further into a place I would later refer to as Hell. I stumbled a little as I was pushed aside and a bar stool dug painfully into my side.

"Ouch." I hissed as I tried to stand up straight.

"You alright, kid?" I looked up at a middle aged barman standing in front of me. He didn't seem quite as dangerous as the other folk in there but if he was going to work in a place like this he couldn't be entirely innocent.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm just gonna…" I gestured vaguely behind me and started backing up. The barman just nodded and laughed shortly.

"If you want my advice you're gonna want to get out of here as quickly as you can." I didn't know if that was a threat or not but getting out was exactly what I was intending to do. I took one last look at his smirk and tried to fight my way through the crowd. How did I not notice how many people there were up until then?

The whole escapade ended up being a bit of a disaster. A woman with a faraway look in her eyes offered me a cigarette, a man nearly knocked me out when he turned around with a bottle in his hand after I'd tripped on the back of his shoes and I ended up on the complete opposite side of the room.

I sighed bitterly, no one was even trying to stop me from leaving but it felt like I was never going to get out. The smoke fumes had started to make me feel queasy and I was already beginning to lose patience. _Composure, Kurt, it's just a room; you can't get angry at a non-living thing._

I attempted to push my way through the crowd again but I stumbled and almost fell into the casino table. The commotion attracted the attention of a man gambling at that very table.

He was all skin and bones with a cheap polyester suit drowning his body and beads of sweat causing his comb-over to cling to his grimy forehead. His eyes were devoid of all emotions or sensations and yet when he saw me it was as though a spark ignited in his expression and suddenly he was grinning at me through blackened teeth. His whole appearance made me feel sick and for a moment I was terrified that this was a pedophilic and dirty old man.

"Well if it isn't my lucky charm." He spoke in an accent so masked by the stench of alcohol on his breath that I couldn't place it, his words were slurred and all I could concentrate on was the overpowering smell that radiated off them. The man then placed a gambling chip into my hand which was slimy and slick with his sweat. "Come on kid, you're deciding on where I should place my bet."

"Oh, no thank you I-"

"Did it sound like I was giving you a choice?" His smile hardened and a thick lump formed in my throat. I'd never felt so sick in my life. I smiled nervously, flung the game chip back at his face and made a dash for it.

I'd say that I had no idea what I was thinking, but that was just it; I_ wasn't_ thinking. All I knew was that I had to get away from there and that disgusting creature and this was the time to do it.

Although I no longer had the advantage of being small enough to escape unnoticed anymore, years of running away from danger had made me nimble and a quick sprinter. I'd always been agile and this was another chance for me to prove it to myself.

I knew that this wasn't like my usual escapes; usually I'd be getting away from one person or a few, not a few hundred. It was about a hundred to one that I'd be caught and if I did it would probably be a matter of life or death. I knew that my escape was now or never; and the latter was certainly not an option.

The table stood on four legs and therefore had a wide gap underneath it big enough for me to scramble through instead of trying to get through the crowd, who were already gathering to see what the commotion was about. There was uproar as I crawled frantically under the table but suddenly I felt a clammy hand pulling back on my ankle and I skidded to the floor under the force of it.

"I've got him!" The man yelled, but I turned onto my back, twisting my leg painfully in the process and lashed out sharply with my foot. There was a crack as it connected with his nose and he clutched his face in shock, letting me regain control of my ankle. I don't know why, but every time I seemed to get myself into trouble it seemed to be the nose that I hit in self-defense. I didn't even do it on purpose, it just happened.

I knew it wouldn't be long until the drunks realized they had enough of a brain to reach out under the table to grab me themselves so I seized the chance to move quickly and pulled myself out the other end of the table, proceeding to pull myself onto the table itself when I noticed that people were advancing from all sides.

There wasn't any time to think, soon there would be people climbing onto the table and…well, doing anything they wanted to do with me. As a spy I always knew that there was the chance that something bad was going to happen to me, but this was never the way that I imagined I'd die. It was hardly very James Bond, was it?

That's when it dawned on me; James Bond, gadgets! I had gadgets. Granted they weren't very good gadgets because despite the illegal thing I wasn't allowed to be given anything that would promote violence for another year or so, but they were gadgets.

Reaching into my pocket I pulled out a fake can of deodorant and activated it in the direction closest to the door. Heavy mist came out of it and as the crowd started to choke on the smoke –and it _was _normal smoke by the way, there weren't even any poisonous chemicals in it- their vision was compromised and I leapt over the table and out of the room.

As soon as I got in my car I sent a quick text to Mr. Moore and drove home. Life was so much easier escaping when you could drive. My car was also equipped with in-case-of-emergency gadgets and, you know, was a very fast sports car. There were plenty of people who would kill for a car like mine and yet honestly I hated it.

I know I said earlier that it was hardly very James Bond but I'm glad about that. Sports cars and gadgets make my life feel more fake and clichéd. It's bad enough being a spy, but I didn't want to fit into the film's stereotypes. Like a seventeen year old with no parents would be able to afford a car like mine anyway. Way to be inconspicuous.

I drove home in a bit of a daze that I'd almost been caught again. I swear if I was a cat, I must have been reincarnated at least three times by now; surely my lives were going to run out eventually.

When I did reach my house I cut off the engine, opened my car door and almost fell to the ground as a shooting pain ran up my leg. I grabbed onto the car for support as I tested putting weight on my ankle again and cried out in pain. _Shit, _how did I not notice that earlier?

I must have been so caught up in my own thoughts that I never even gave myself time to see how bad my ankle was. Either that or I'd been gradually making it worse using it to drive and now the pain had increased dramatically trying to walk on it. Honestly, I don't really know the reason; I just knew that I was in pain.

I lowered myself back down into my car and lifted the bottom leg of my skinny jeans cautiously, only to be met with a raging red and purple hand shaped bruise. _See Kurt, this is why you don't try and twist out of an iron-like grip. It doesn't end well._ I told my conscience to go die in a hole and looked back up towards my house to see Jamie stood in the doorway with a face like thunder.

Things only got better, right? I sighed and looked at her apologetically whilst trying to lift myself out of my car again in the most pain free way I could manage.

Jamie was always concerned for my wellbeing and hated me going on dangerous missions, which I probably shouldn't have told her about. Complaining to her about ex-criminals and was hardly going to help her overactive imagination, and coming back injured was bad too.

This wasn't the first time I'd been more seriously hurt on a mission. There had been cuts and bruises before sure, but the only other time I'd been badly injured had actually been one of the best things to ever happen to me…

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

The only thing I remember is the pain. It hurt so freakin' much and I couldn't even comprehend the pain, it just hurt. I don't even know what really happened. I wasn't even on a mission when I did it. I was just walking away from one and I stumbled and my arm...it was too painful even to think about it.

All I knew was that I'd skewered my arm on something and now the pain was so intense that I thought I was going to pass out. Actually no, it felt like I was going to die. There was so much blood, and although I didn't admit it very often I was squeamish and I couldn't even look at it.

I staggered on the street I was on and fell partly into the wall beside me. I had my phone on me, I could easily have pulled it out of my pocket and called Jamie, but I couldn't. I didn't want her to worry any more. This was my own stupid fault, I should have been more careful.

Although, it was kind of stupid, essentially I was willing to bleed to death because I didn't want Jamie to find out that I was bleeding to death. Yeah, it was definitely stupid. But I was so scared, and I didn't know what to do. If calling Jamie wasn't an option, and I certainly couldn't call Mr. Moore and let him now that I'd been a failure, then I guess I had nothing else to do.

I was pretty sure that just the pain was going to cause me to black out soon but I practically collapsed onto the ground and leant back against the a garden wall I'd previously fallen into, wondering what was going to happen to me, when I heard voices. They were quiet, because they were clearly from quite a distance away, but they gradually were coming closer.

I didn't bother to look up; the pain was taking away most of my energy anyway, so I just kept my head down and wrapped my good arm around myself, willing for something –anything, to happen.

"But Mom if you'd have just let me drive us there then we wouldn't have to-"

"Do you honestly think I'm going to get in a car with you after what happened? Remember the mail carrier Finn?"

"Of course I remember the mailman Mom; I can't exactly forget something like that. Why do you have to bring it up every single time we-"

"You could have killed somebody Finn! The car hasn't been the same since but who knows how much it'll take to get a mechanic and –Oh my God, sweetie, are you okay?"

I was silent, waiting for her son to respond when I realized that the sound was coming from directly in front of me. Slowly I lifted my head and saw a pair of concerned green eyes.

In front of me were two brunettes; a mother and son, who were watching me curiously. The boy, Finn, looked to be around my age and was stood rather awkwardly in the background wearing a letterman jacket, although there was genuine worry in his eyes. He was tall, ridiculously so, and it was apparent that he was a jock; not exactly the kind of person that would usually even notice me.

His mom, knelt at my level, was still watching me closely with a soft and caring expression.

"I…don't know." I answered her question genuinely, because I was unsure of everything at that moment in time. "I just –it just hurts."

"You're gonna be okay, honey, I'm a nurse. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I…tripped. I-"

"That's okay; you don't have to say anything else. Look, we're right outside my house just now so how about this? We're gonna take you inside, bandage your arm up tightly for the moment so that you don't lose any more blood, and then I'm gonna need you to keep talking for me and not fall asleep. Finn here will phone an ambulance for you."

"Don't like hospitals." I muttered tiredly, already struggling to say conscious.

"Hey, no, open your eyes for me, keep talking. It's all gonna be okay. Come on, I'll help you up." She helped to steady me on my feet and I sat inside at her kitchen table while she bandaged my arm, all the while she was smiling and asking me questions.

"So what's your name, sweetie?" She asked me calmly, keeping the same level tone to keep me at ease.

"Kurt." I answered drowsily. It was all well and good her speaking to me in order for me to stay awake but it was torture. I just wanted the pain to end.

"That's a great name, Kurt. I'm Carole. Do you want me to phone your parents and let them know what's happened?"

Why did everything for me have to be this awkward? I hated talking about stuff like this; it'd just lead to awkward questions that I'd technically promised I wouldn't answer. I wasn't supposed to tell anybody about me being a spy, but at this rate what other choice did I have? She was helping me.

"I don't…" I trailed off and willed myself not to cry.

"You don't what, Kurt?"

"Don't have any parents. My mom died when I was eight and my dad died when I was thirteen." I said quietly.

"Oh I'm very sorry Kurt that must be awful for you. My Finn lost his dad when he was just a baby." She motioned over to her son who was standing in the corner of the kitchen after having sheepishly admitted that he couldn't stand the sight of blood. Neither could I, but I didn't have any other option, did I?

"So who are you living with now?" She continued.

"Jamie."

"And who's that, dear? Are they a relative of yours?"

"No, she…she started helping out around the house after my mom died, like a housekeeper. But after my dad…" I swallowed; I didn't want to have to say it again. "I didn't have any other relatives so she just stayed and looked after me. She's like my best friend."

"She sounds lovely, Kurt. Do you want to phone her?"

"She'll be so annoyed. I promised her I'd be careful when I first-" I finally saw what I was saying and shut myself up.

"When you first…?" Carole prompted. I shook my head, I couldn't tell her. I'd already told her too much. "That's okay Kurt; you don't have to tell me anything else." She smiled genuinely.

All through going to the hospital and getting my arm properly checked out she stood by me and never pushed to ask what I was going to say. Even Finn would chime in on the conversation sometimes whenever someone said something that interested him. He still looked like there were other places he'd rather be, but he wasn't unpleasant.

I thought that maybe everything was going to be fine until Jamie finally marched into the hospital and hugged the life out of me.

"Oh my God, Kurt I was so worried!" She exclaimed after finally pulling back. Over her shoulder I saw Carole smiling, although clearly surprised at how young Jamie was, and Finn with his eyebrows raised, probably checking her out.

"I know and I'm sorry but-"

"Don't you _ever _do that to me again, mister. You promised you were going to be careful and then when I finally check my phone after work I see a message from you telling me you're at the hospital. What happened?" Jamie questioned rhetorically.

"Honestly, I've never approved of this whole spying thing, you're too young to be messing with stuff like this, and it's dangerous."

"Jamie." I said in warning, my eyebrows raised at her just saying that out loud. I willed myself not to look at Finn and Carole.

"No Kurt, I'm not finished. I mean, who does that Matthew Moore think he is making you do all this stuff? You were thirteen when you became a spy; he's been destroying your life for years now. Forget asking for Moore every time, he asks too freakin' much!"

"Jamie." I said, borderline hysterical. She was so deep into rambling that she didn't even hear me.

"Just because your parents were spies doesn't mean that you should be one too, why couldn't they just wait until you were at least 18? Doesn't he think you get enough hate as it is being gay? Why would you need more people against you because you've been spying on them?"

I didn't even say anything this time. I simply looked up at the ceiling, cursing whoever it was up there that had put me in this situation, before burying my head in my hands.

"If they're going to do all of that you'd think they'd at least give you stuff to use in self-defense? But no, they don't want to promote violence or something. So what? They're gonna put an unarmed kid in front of criminals and murderers? What kind of society do we live in that-?"

"Jamie!" I yelled.

"What? Kurt, I'm talking."

"I know that Jamie but those are technically secrets that even _you_ shouldn't know about. I don't need you revealing my whole life story to two strangers that I have literally just met!"

Jamie froze and turned around, seeing a stunned Finn and Carole for the first time.

"Um…hi, how are you?" She waved awkwardly. "Um, that's just – you don't have to listen to any of that. It's just a little game of ours, right Kurt?"

I raised an eyebrow at her excuse. Seriously; that's the best she could do?

"Yeah, like, wow Kurt, you're a teenage spy! It's funny, right?"

Carole and Finn were staring blankly.

"Yeah you're not buying any of that, are you?" She turned back to me apologetically. "Sorry?" She offered.

"Jamie, you might have_ literally_ just gotten me killed. What the hell am I supposed to do when the whole world knows what I do?"

"We're not gonna tell anybody." Carole stated truthfully.

"What?" I asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, dude, that's just awesome! I mean, you're gay right? I thought all that gay guys were only interested in was fashion and musicals and stuff, but dude! You're a spy! How cool is that?" Finn said excitedly.

"Finn, that wasn't very nice." Carole scolded.

"It's… fine." I said kindly, if not a little dazed. "So, you're really not gonna tell anybody?"

"No way, dude. It'll be so cool knowing a spy!"

"Oh course not sweetie." Carole answered. "You can trust us not to tell anyone. As long as I get to hear how you're getting on. You're welcome to come to see us any time you like."

"Yeah, you can tell me all about the bad guys you beat up and-"

"That's enough Finn." His mother warned.

"Sorry, I got carried away, but still, it'll be awesome." Finn's eyes lit up.

"You know spying isn't _that_ interesting. Technically I'm not allowed to tell anyone that kind of stuff anyway."

"But you still will, right?" Finn asked hopefully.

"I guess it's possible…"

I don't think I'll ever know why I put so much trust in those people that day, but I'm definitely glad that I did. They became a huge part of my life from that day onwards. Carole was like a mom to me and Finn and I eventually became as close as brothers. It's funny how can things turn out sometimes.

**End Author's Note:** Reviews make my day.


	6. Overthinking, Or Not Thinking At All

**Author's Note:** Just a quick thanks to everyone who's reading this story, I hope you're enjoying it!

**6. Overthinking, Or Not Thinking At All**

"Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

"Huh?" I asked Jamie quizzically. I was sat on my laptop doing some studying before my tutor was due to visit when she had randomly said that. My ankle was resting on the chair beside me because I still couldn't walk on it properly so I was slouching a lot and had to lift my head quite high so that I could see her.

"It's a Bernard M. Baruch quote." She stated, as if that was what I was asking. I rolled my eyes; she was always quoting things nowadays.

"Okay…but what exactly are you trying to tell me?"

"Well Kurt, do I matter to you?"

"Of course you do, why would you even ask that? You're like my best friend."

Well, she meant a lot more to me than any best friend ever would, as a matter of fact. When I was eight, and she first met me, Jamie was only nineteen. Therefore, with me seventeen by now, Jamie was still only twenty eight. Even though she was technically still my guardian she was way too young to ever act like a mom to me. Jamie was more like an epic cousin or an amazing older sister.

"Well think about it then." I did _try_ to think about it, truly I did.

"…Yeah, I got nothing. I have no idea what you're talking about." Jamie sighed at my answer.

"I'm trying to tell you that I don't mind."

"Don't mind what?" I wasn't usually this oblivious, I promise. It was just today.

"Kurt, for goodness sake, I'm trying to tell you that I'm not annoyed at you for what happened yesterday."

"Oh." I drew out the word slowly. "Well you could have just said that." Then I paused and hesitated. "Wait, why would you have to forgive me for that anyway? It wasn't _my_ fault that I got hurt; I didn't even realize I'd done anything."

"You could have been more careful, Kurt. You promised you would be. It's okay; after all, anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new."

"Well yeah, but…that was another quote, wasn't it?"

"But it was from Albert Einstein himself, so surely it can't be wrong." I loved Jamie and all, but the quotes got irritating. I wish it was her talking for once, you know, not with someone else's words.

Sure, sometimes I loved the quotes. Like there was the time when I admitted to her that I'd felt uncomfortable at my dad's funeral and she'd just said _"Anyone who thinks sitting in church can make you a Christian must also think that sitting in a garage can make you a car –Garrison Keillor."_

Also, about a week after coming out I'd found two notes on my bed:

"_To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." ― Ralph Waldo Emerson Xxx_

"_Be yourself; everyone else is already taken." ― Oscar Wilde Xxx_

But those were times when I _needed_ the quotes, I _needed_ reassurance… I sighed; I guess it was just something I had to accept.

"How is your ankle anyway?" She asked curiously.

"Just great, I may be able to win a marathon sometime in the next twenty years."

Jamie laughed; she always seemed to laugh at my sarcasm, even when it wasn't intentionally funny, or funny at all for that matter. She raised an eyebrow to silently ask for my serious answer.

"Honestly I don't know what you expect me to say. It hurts, a lot, especially when I try to move." I said miserably.

"You could always ask Carole to take a look at it." Jamie offered.

"Yeah, I'm sure Finn will love to hear the tale of my epic escapade." It amazed me how interested in my life Finn was. He was practically my brother and it was weird how accepting he was of me being gay, I wasn't used to it.

I guess one of the reasons we were originally so close is because I was the only person his age he knew that didn't have to go to school, and he was the _only_ person I knew my age, which is pretty sad when you think about it. Still, we got along well and he was more ecstatic about my career than I was.

Although it all started off with him just being interested in what I did, we somehow became friends along the way and it's much more than a matter of just having someone to talk to.

"I think I'll pass for now, I'd rather relax for a while and wait for my ankle to stop its war with the rest of my body."

Jamie nodded in understanding, obviously approving this idea.

A sudden noise from my phone alerted my attention as it told me I had a message. Frowning, I read the text and then sighed and put my phone in the front pocket of my jeans.

"Duty calls," I breathed, already struggling to get up.

"Kurt wait," She put her hands on my shoulders to steady me. "You can't do this, its insanity; you can't even stand up properly."

Looking into her concerned green eyes I could see the concern and the worry, but there was nothing I could do.

"Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, but expecting different results –Albert Einstein." I grinned, happy to have recited a quote before her. "It's not like I'm going on an actual mission right this second anyway, it's just a briefing. I promise I'll be careful."

She nodded dejectedly and agreed that I had to go, luckily missing my hiss of pain when I put weight onto my ankle. I managed to make it to the door with my pain undetected but I had to bite my lip the whole time to keep from crying out.

The drive was complete agony, every little movement of my foot sending my whole body screaming, it took a lot of control to stop myself from doing the same thing. I didn't scream though, I didn't complain, I just tried to carry on as though nothing was wrong.

It never really bothered me how confusing the route was inside The Building (I'd refer to it as HQ but it just doesn't sound right like that, again, too clichéd.) but it was torture for my ankle on this occasion. I had to concentrate more on walking correctly than the actual route I was taking, trying not to limp or lean over on one side. Unfortunately it seemed I wasn't as good at faking as I thought.

"Having trouble, Kirk?" A smug tone rang around my ears like a bell. I grimaced as I knew exactly who it was and turned towards the source with a tight lipped smile, knowing that I'd be wasting my breath correcting him.

"I didn't realize you had such concern for my wellbeing, Tom."

"It's Thomas, actually." He said coldly.

"Oh I know." I replied brightly.

Although most people that I worked with accepted me with open arms, Thomas Collins was an exception to this. He was the closest thing to an enemy that I had and I disliked him with a passion purely down to the way he treated me.

Thomas wasn't homophobic, if that's what you're thinking; he just holds a grudge against me. He'd prided himself in being the youngest agent when he joined at age sixteen but then a year later I showed up, thirteen years old, and he never let it go. The attention was away from him, and I was the one getting the 'and at such a young age' praises.

Although bitter, I had to admit that he was a good agent, not that I'd say it to his face. He had to find ways to fault me; luckily I knew something about him that never failed to get on his nerves.

"So how are you, Tom? Seen your brother recently?" Of course I spoke in the sweetest tone I could muster, yet I saw his expression harden when he realized where this was headed.

"Jeremy and I have been out of contact for a while, as I told you the last time you asked, and the time before. I don't see why you have such an obsession with my personal life."

Oh he did, he _so_ did.

"Well I know how much of a family man you are, don't I? It's so strange that your parents would choose to name their children _Tom_ and _Jerry_."

I saw his blue eyes narrow underneath his blond fringe. Numerous times now I'd shown him pictures of the cartoon cat and mouse from the show _Tom and Jerry_, it just never got old.

"They didn't, they named them Thomas and Jeremy."

"But we all know what they were aiming for." I shrugged. "There's no need to be so defensive about it, I'm simply making conversation."

As much as I'd have loved to hear Tom's comeback, a figure appeared behind him and whatever insult I would have been thrown died in his throat.

"Hey Hummel, Moore's going crazy wondering where you are, get a move on."

I shot Tom a sarcastic "Nice talking to you!" before walking away.

"Hi Scott," I greeted my distraction. He rolled his eyes fondly.

Scott Reed was a man of around Jamie's age who was one of my closest friends there. He was one of the people that helped me out on assignments when I first joined up and had proved to be like a mentor in the following years. He supported me and was just generally great to talk to.

"Honestly Kurt, you don't half ask for trouble teasing the guy every time you see him. I mean, he deserves it; he's an ass, but you don't have to resort to dropping to his level. Although I have to admit, mutual hate is pretty cool."

"I wouldn't let him flatter himself as to thinking that I feel so strongly about him in any way; it's simply a strong dislike." I clarified, grinning despite myself because Scott had insulted him too.

"Whatever you say, kid."

Everyone called me kid at some point or another; I was used to it by now.

"Anyway I haven't seen you in a while, how's it going Reed?"

Being referred to by a last name was common, especially while in The Building. Technically I was the third Agent Hummel, but formalities such as that were usually only said by the highest ranking agents, and I was never really called that because of my age.

"You know how it is Hummel; I don't have much of a social life outside of work. I met someone the other day and we spoke for a while, but I doubt it's going to work out. It's not like I'm ever going to be able to say what I do as a job."

"Why can't it work? You're the one that's supposed to be all optimistic and happy spirited all the time; you're not usually willing to give up on things so easily. For all you know she's all you've ever wanted. What's she like?"

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"What?" I asked curiously. I knew he was straight, so it's not like I'd said anything wrong by presuming that it was a she.

"You honestly want to gossip about _my_ life right now? What about _you_, kid? You're been summoned for a briefing which is _clearly_ a special assignment because it's just you and it's all private and important. That is _far_ more exciting than me talking about some girl I'm never gonna have."

I was just about to argue back that it wasn't _that_ interesting when he spoke again.

"Besides, I want to know the story behind that ankle. You have got a _lot_ of explaining to do when you get out; I'm intrigued now."

I cursed and briefly my eyes flickered down to it as we continued walking.

"…Is it really that obvious?" _Damn_ and I thought I was a good actor.

"Nah, not really, I just know you well enough. Just keep a brave face and they're not gonna see anything different. You know what they're like; only see what they want to see even when something's staring them straight in the face." Scott was a very logical person, and I supposed that this was good advice.

We'd reached the door which I knew Mr. Moore and Miss Jenkins were behind by this point and I sighed dejectedly as I realized that I was about to go in for torture. I despised briefings, especially the big informal private ones.

"Chin up and take it like a man, Hummel."

I laughed at his words as I saw him start to retreat down the corridor, taking the first few paces backwards and grinning all the while.

"I will; as long as you don't give up on that girl." I reasoned.

"Yes Sir." He mock saluted and carried on his way.

I laughed again at the insanity that was one of my closest friends, and then took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the room I was about to enter.

What I didn't prepare myself for was what I was going to hear.

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

I don't know how much time passed from me being in that room, the briefing part didn't take very long at all, it was the disagreement that followed that talk that felt like forever. Whatever the case, I somehow found myself entering my house in a slight daze later on, wondering what the hell I'd just got myself into.

"_What you're about to be shown is different from any mission you're ever been assigned before, and you're not going to like it. It is, however, of the upmost importance."_

I really should have listened when they said that; they were serious about it.

I collapsed onto the couch, put my head in my hands and groaned when I remembered what I'd agreed to. This was real; I was genuinely going to have to do this.

"Kurt, I want an explanation."

Jumping a foot into the air I saw that Jamie was sat beside me with the usual 'What _now_?' stern expression. Breathing heavily and clutching at my heart out of shock I muttered something along the lines of 'Could've sworn you weren't there earlier…' and Jamie repeated her earlier statement.

"Okay," I sighed. "But you're not allowed to be mad at me. I may have agreed to…" I paused as I tried to think of the correct wording. "Investigate something?"

"You're spying on someone, aren't you?" She accused. Jeeze that woman was fast.

"Little bit." I admitted.

"Kurt! How could you?"

"It's not my fault, I don't want to do it, and I told you not to get mad at me!"

"Who is it?" She demanded. I did a double take.

"What –you expect me to just tell you a name and you'll know exactly who I'm talking about? It's not as simple as that Jay, you know it isn't." Some force somewhere must have been out to get me because even the use of her nickname didn't soften her thunderous expression.

"I swear, if they put you somewhere with a murderer or a criminal mastermind I am going to-"

It was probably best to cut the promise off there; it wasn't something likely to be suitable if you intended to sleep at night.

"He's probably not even dangerous! He doesn't have a criminal record, he's never gotten in trouble for anything, and he's just a kid!" My outburst took both of us by surprise and after regaining control of my breathing I finished lamely by saying "…Like me."

"You're using someone for information, aren't you? It's not just 'investigating'; you're abusing someone's trust." I did not like the icy tone she was using to accuse me.

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't _hate_ what they're making me do? I don't want to screw with somebody's head when it's not even him that's done anything wrong! I don't _want_ to Jamie, I _have_ to."

"…Sorry, of course you don't, I shouldn't have blamed you." Jamie backtracked immediately. "So what have you got to do?" Her tone softened, it wasn't me she was angry with; it was the situations I kept being put into.

"Okay, basically, there's this guy, Mark Harris, who is like the _ultimate_ criminal. He's broken almost every law you can name; committed fraud, theft, done drugs, etcetera. Anyone who goes against him is either found severely injured or worse, and some are just never found."

"I'm sorry; you think I'm going to let you get involved in _that_?"

"No I- look, you've got to let me finish first. So, he's been doing this for years, but he always gets away with it. The problem is that there is never any evidence. No one will say anything against him for fear of what will happen to them; he knows a lot of people in a lot of places. People would never stand a chance trying to pick a fight with someone like him.

"It only needs a little bit of proof for us to be able to stop him, but obviously it's too much of a hazard sending anyone in undercover. It'd take too long to build up the trust to get a confession as well so it's too much of a risk and too likely to go wrong.

"That's where I come in. He has a son my age who should theoretically know what his dad is up to, at the very least the true nature of what he's like. I'm supposed to get the verification from him."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jamie asked me hesitantly, by now only having concern laced into her voice.

"I'm sure that I _don't_ want to, but I don't have much of a choice. It could be worse, and I'm not really putting myself in danger, it's just that I don't want to betray someone's trust. I don't know if I can physically do that, or if I'd be able to stand it."

"The way I see it Kurt, you're just going to have to go about it in the most pain-free way you can manage. I'm sure you'll find an approach that means you're not gonna hurt him." She smiled sympathetically. "So what's this Harris Junior like?"

"That's another thing, I don't know. His last name's not even Harris …and I haven't seen a picture either. Mark's got messy black hair and striking blue eyes, but I don't know if there's any resemblance and it looks like the mother is out of the picture."

Jamie studied my expression for a moment as though trying to find a sign that would disprove my honesty before finally finding her words.

"You're expected to befriend someone who you only know the age and presumably name of? How are you expected to find him?"

I bit my lip, now came the difficult part.

"Kurt, what aren't you telling me?"

_Okay Kurt, just do it quickly. It's like ripping off a Band Aid, painless._

"I start at Dalton Academy on Monday." I blurted out.

It's gotta be said, the reaction was _a lot_ more painful than I was expecting. When I'd finally calmed her down enough that she had partly accepted that I'd be two hours away in a boarding school for an unforeseeable amount of time in the future, I had to make things worse.

"I just- I can't believe that my little Kurt is going back to school. You're going to be so far away!"

Okay, so looking back maybe she was still a _little_ hysterical and hadn't _quite_ stopped sobbing, but I was still going for the Band Aid method. I do _not_ recommend it.

"About that, right, it's not _technically _going to be _Kurt_ attending Dalton."

"What do you mean?" She sniffed.

"I've got to use a fake name and identity."

If she hadn't have been fighting back tears so hard, there is no doubt in my mind that she would have killed me –and I'm still not sure whether that would have been verbally or literally.

I knew that Jamie was protective of me, but _wow_ was she fierce. It took me about another hour to convince her that this was the safest thing to do, but amazingly I managed to get her to calm down in the end.

If you really thought about it, this way was the easiest. I may not have had _that_ big a reputation in my side of the world, but I'd made enough enemies for there to be a chance that someone would recognize me. Using another identity meant that there wasn't that much of an opportunity for this to be linked back to me.

Also, if this _did_ end badly, there'd be less chance of me being found by the guy who was the key to this mission.

Being as I was far from famous, my name didn't have to be obscure and it was kept to the same amount of letters as my real one, I also had the same initials.

Admittedly, I had choked on air when they said I was going to be 'Kyle Hudson', but that was mainly because I was worried that they'd found out about Finn and Carole and how much I'd told them. Luckily they didn't know anything about them; it was just a relatively common six-letter-beginning-with-h-name apparently. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what they'd think about it.

It was a really busy day and I wasn't sure what I'd been thinking when I agreed to anything. I probably wasn't thinking at all, that was always my problem.

When I'd finally dragged myself up to my room I flopped onto my bed face down and sighed, muttering what I'd been wanting to say ever since I'd learnt who I was spying on –not that I knew who he was.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine Anderson."

**End Author's Note:** Intrigued? Blaine will _finally_ be appearing next chapter, along with a couple of Warblers, but will he be all that you expect? You'll have to wait and see, won't you? ;) Thoughts?


	7. Meet Kyle

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone, thanks for reading.

Just a quick heads up, I know that I've been good at updating so far (every Wednesday and Saturday, even I'm impressed) but soon it may narrow down to once a week, just because I need to ensure that I stay ahead of writing this and there won't be a long wait if I get writer's block or something. So, you've been warned, don't be shocked if this isn't updated when you expect. I hope that's okay.

This chapter will see the beginning of Kurt's (or _Kyle's_) time at Dalton, and also the first appearance of Blaine. Enjoy!

**7. Meet Kyle**

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," I half groaned and half whimpered at the sight of myself in the mirror. It was the morning after I'd gotten my new assignment and I was less than impressed with what I had to wear.

One point that I hadn't mentioned to Jamie was that going undercover and using another identity usually involved a physical disguise as well. It was actually a miracle that she hadn't already noticed me dragging three huge suitcases out of my car and to my room (luckily the pain in my ankle was subsiding so this didn't cause too much discomfort). The amount of clothes I'd been given was unbelievable and convincing me to wear them seemed even more unlikely.

Admittedly I had almost screamed in annoyance upon seeing the contents, (and luckily for them that wasn't until _after_ I'd arrived at home) but it wasn't _that_ bad in retrospect. I mean, none of the clothes I had to wear were _me_, but they weren't entirely repulsive.

I mean, sure _practically nothing_ was a designer that I recognized if it was designer at all. _All_ of the jeans were too loose for me to be comfortable with and had me suddenly wanting a belt. But _worst_ of all was that it was virtually all _freakin'_ normal.

Hoodies, jeans, colored tops with random patterns or slogans, a sports watch, zip-up jackets with wide pockets, the list went on. Then there was a ridiculous amount of _Converse; high-tops _in various colors and some even customized. I liked Converse (who doesn't?) but no one needs that many pairs of sneakers in their life.

Currently I was wearing brown non-denim jeans and a green jacket, a simple white V-neck's hem showing at the base of it. It was comfortable; the jeans weren't denim but the material was soft and 'my' jacket was lined with some kind of artificial fur that kept me warm –but I didn't feel _comfortable_.

Every moment in life is an opportunity for fashion, but this was about as fashionable as life is fair. At least in my opinion it was. It was times like this that I wished I'd never become an agent.

I shrugged my hands into my pockets and stared down at my outfit (it was more of a glare to be honest), my gaze settling on the ground for a moment before I looked back up at the mirror as though still trying to see that this was me. Sighing heavily I nodded to myself and forced my way out of my room and to see Jamie.

Her eyes widened and her eyebrows rose as soon as she saw me.

"Something else you forgot to mention I presume." She smiled fondly and shook her head at me. She wasn't angry or annoyed, this time she just accepted it. Besides, I must have looked annoyed enough at the situation already. "That's not permanent, right?"

"It'll come off eventually." I paused. "I'd have told you earlier but there just never seemed to be a suitable moment to discuss hair dye and fake tan."

…Did I _not_ say that before?

The idea was that the main things in my appearance that people would usually describe me with had to be changed too. Therefore, no one would see a pale teenage boy with chestnut colored hair and glasz eyes. I was now slightly tanned with auburn brown hair and non-prescription contacts that made my eyes look green –oh, and I had glasses.

Jamie's natural auburn hair was redder than mine, but there were now quite a lot of similarities.

Add that image to what I was wearing and you can see why I don't think I look like me anymore.

Grudgingly I have to say that I looked alright. Sleek black frames looked good on me and despite my usually impeccable fashion sense being no longer present I pulled off the casual look surprisingly well. Although I didn't necessarily approve, Kyle Hudson suited me like this.

"So I know what Kyle looks like, but is there anything I should know about his personality?" Jamie asked nonchalantly.

This was something I had already considered, so it didn't take me long to answer.

"If I've gotta dress like this and change my name then I'm at least keeping my own personality. It's bad enough that I've been told to manipulate information out of somebody, but if I have to then I'm doing it my way. I don't see the need to change everything about who I am just for this; I'm just gonna be me."

"Glad to hear it. I doubt that Mr. Moore would see the same way of thinking but if he doesn't like it I'll tell him exactly where he can go."

"Wow Jamie, you're _so_ friendly." She turned to me with a weak glare.

"Less of the sarcasm mister, you won't be spying on anybody if you carry on. In fact, I won't even let you leave the house."

"Not much of a threat if I don't want to in the first place." I pointed out.

"As a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, I'd say that you could end up surprising yourself. You never know, you could make yourself a friend."

"I've got friends." I muttered defensively.

"I meant friends your own age, Kurt. In which case you have a _friend,_ there's no plural. No offense to Finn but he isn't the greatest person to talk to on an intellectual level either." Jamie corrected.

"I know, I know. But I doubt that anyone will be nice to me when they find my true intentions."

"Then maybe you need to better define which intentions are yours and which belong to someone else."

"…Who are you quoting now?" I asked curiously but with a hint of annoyance.

"I'm not."

I did a lot of lounging around for the remainder of the day, but why not? I had a lot of clothes to try on and a lot of Converse to get used to. I wanted to get rid of the _just bought_ feel and make myself feel more relaxed in what I was wearing.

This was really just an excuse to sit with my iPod on shuffle for the majority of the day.

It was pretty fun, apart from the fact that every half hour or so I had to change clothes just to get through them all. Sneakers are so annoying and awkward to keep taking off and putting back on again –especially Converse high-tops.

Of course, Jamie had to find the whole thing amusing. She even decided to pointedly watch a spy movie.

Then, late-afternoon, there was a knock on the door.

"Kurt, could you answer that? It'll be Finn and Carole. Remember I told you earlier that they were coming over?"

I would have yelled something back about distinctively remembering _not_ being told, but I had my earphones in, and had stopped paying attention after I heard my name mentioned. I also happened to forget what I looked like at that moment.

"Dude, what the hell…?"

Finn's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I took my earphones out and quickly slung them around the back of my neck.

"Oh, right, I- come in."

Looking back, it probably wasn't the _best_ way for them to find out.

It was sufficiently awkward from that point onwards. Carole went into the lounge to speak to Jamie, already knowing that I'd explain at some point, whereas Finn followed me into the kitchen when I went to make some coffee and leant on the doorframe to stop me from escaping.

"So…you're still gay, right?" He asked with uncertainty.

I looked at his incredulously. "You find me with my eyes and hair a totally different color, glasses and a completely different wardrobe and _that's_ the question you decide to ask me? I don't think I'll ever understand the way your mind works, Finn."

He shrugged his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Well for all I know you could suddenly have multi-person ability order. I thought it was sensible to check."

"I think you mean multiple personality disorder, Finn, and I don't think that can change your sexuality. I can assure you I'm the same person mentally as I was the last time I saw you."

"Oh. Good. Just checking…" I laughed under my breath. "But –you look straight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I was more amused than offended; Finn didn't seem to realize this though.

"Well I –not that you usually look gay or anything –I just…" He stopped and thought about what he wanted to say first. "Usually you're into fashion but now you look like you could be a member of the next upcoming boy band. -No offense…"

"…Okay? Um, yeah, I should probably explain that right about now, huh?"

They actually took it pretty well. They were really supportive of me going to high school despite the reasons for it and the fact that it wasn't really _me_ going to Dalton. The last name didn't faze them at all and Finn told me that he already considered me as his brother so it was all good.

Before I knew it, it was Monday morning and I was adjusting my red and navy striped tie as I prepared to enter one of the many doors into Dalton Academy. I still couldn't believe that I was doing this but there was no going back now. This was it.

I must say that the experience of _entering_ Dalton was entirely anti-climactic and not very interesting at all. I got lost three times trying to find my way to the office, even after asking for directions. I felt like a total idiot standing around with a puzzled expression on my face and wondering just how big this place actually was and how anywhere could have so many corridors. Luckily someone decided to take pity on me.

"Um, excuse me, are you okay? You look a bit lost." I turned to see a tall blond boy with a shorter brunet standing next to him. They looked pretty amused, but not unkind.

"Uh, yeah, sorry, is there any chance you can direct me to the office? It's hard to navigate around Hogwarts without the Marauder's Map."

So, _technically_ the Marauder's Map was intended to show the location of people inside Hogwarts, but in order to do that I'd say it'd have to be a pretty accurate map of the school too.

What can I say? I had a lot of time to myself, it made me nerdy. Still, who doesn't like Harry Potter?

They laughed. "I'd say that was a fairly precise description actually. Luckily none of our staircases move, although I'm _sure_ we have a secret passage somewhere."

The brunet shook his head and rolled his eyes warmly. "What Jeff _meant_ to say was: of course we can direct you to the office, we'll show you the way because I know how easy it is to get lost. I'm Nick, by the way."

"I'm Kyle." I said after a moment's hesitation. It was going to be weird getting used to that name._ Pull yourself together, Kurt –I mean Kyle –I mean… oh shut up._

"So what brings you to Dalton, Kyle? Was there trouble at your last school?" Jeff asked curiously. Nick hit him in the arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You of all people should know that you can't around asking things like that!" Nick exclaimed, looking him pointedly in the eyes.

"Right, sorry," Jeff said earnestly, he turned back to me. "I forget to think before I speak sometimes."

"That's fine; but no, to answer your question. Not exactly," I hadn't had problems at school for a long time.

Jeff looked like he was about to open his mouth to ask another question but Nick gave him another look and he stopped. I smiled at the exchange and at how easily the pair seemed to get along.

"So what's it like here anyway?" I asked casually. "I get that it's all about equality with the uniforms but I don't know how private schools work."

Nick shrugged. "That's pretty much it really. There's a no bullying policy in place so you can do basically whatever you like and no one cares, so it's great for people looking for acceptance and a place to fit in, but outside of lessons we all tend to loosen up a bit and show that we're all mentally insane. Well, most of us. Just don't be surprised if you see anyone acting uptight –more often than not it's all an act."

"The way I see it, everyone's a dapperbot until the schoolwork's over. We're all nice guys though; some people are just more guarded than others." Jeff continued. Nick rolled his eyes again at the use of the word 'dapperbot' but I understood what he meant.

"A lot of people have come from bad situations at other schools to here, there are bound to be some of them who still don't trust the idea that this kind of paradise exists." Nick clarified. I nodded in agreement.

"Sounds nice," I meant it too. Dalton was someplace where you could be yourself and wouldn't have to think of the consequences. The irony didn't fail to astound me.

"It is." They told me. We continued to talk for a while before we successfully reached the office. "Well, we hope to see you around, Kyle. It was great talking to you."

"We'd stay and help you sort things out but class starts up again in a few minutes so…" Jeff trailed off.

"No, I get it. Thanks for your help. I'd have been wandering around for hours if you hadn't stopped."

"No problem." They waved and walked away, leaving me to collect my timetable and a lot of other information in such a large quantity that I wasn't sure I'd ever take it all in.

As Nick and Jeff had turned and started to wander off in the opposite direction, I noticed that they were holding hands between them, walking in perfect synch. Although I wasn't sure if they were dating or just really close friends, I grinned as I realized that no one was so much as batting an eyelid at the behavior. They were right; people really were accepting here.

Maybe things weren't going to be so bad after all.

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

The people at the office told me that I should take the day to try and settle in –getting everything sorted into my dorm room and familiarizing myself with the timetable before I started attending class the following day. It would have been great if I could actually begin to find my way around.

Eventually I managed to drag all my stuff up to my dorm while everyone was in class, which wasn't the easiest of tasks to accomplish, especially when my ankle started to take the strain again, but I figured it would have been harder with the corridors crowded. I put my iPod on so that the silence wasn't unbearable and soon I had the chance to just sit on my bed and enjoy the quiet.

Next I sent a text to Jamie telling her that everything was okay and Dalton Academy actually seemed like a really nice school, and once my playlist had finished I just sat and thought for a moment.

Slowly, I got up and looked in the mirror at the reflection that I didn't recognize. It was difficult to tell how I was feeling from the image because the colored contact lenses masked the emotions that would've been displayed in my eyes and I was too distracted by the way my newly dyed hair just seemed to fall over my glasses to really look at my expression.

Honestly, I could only think of how much I missed and needed my hair product. Luckily I quickly snapped out of the daze and decided to have a quick wander around the school to take my mind off things.

As I was trailing around the school, I decided that I loved the atmosphere of the place. By this time most people had gotten out of class and were still filling the corridors, so I simply let myself be carried along by the crowd as I followed aimlessly. I also discovered that the architecture of this place was amazing.

After a while, the masses of students died down and I began traipsing down the smaller corridors, well aware that I was probably already lost and it would be impossible for me to find my way back to my dorm by now. That was a problem I could deal with later. It wasn't as if I hadn't gotten myself out of worse situations.

My exploring promptly ended when I found a boy sat alone in a hidden alcove, tucked away from sight from the rest of the school. I stopped walking; looking up and down the corridor to see if anyone else was around. They weren't.

The alcove mainly consisted of a large ledge that acted as a seat, underneath a large window which overlooked the school grounds. I noticed that this wasn't the ground floor, a fact of which I hadn't been previously aware.

Quietly, I strolled over and sat beside the boy, who was so absorbed in his reading that he didn't even seen to notice me, or at the very least didn't look up.

It wasn't long before he sensed that someone was beside him, at which time he closed his book (keeping his finger in it so that he didn't lose his place) and faced me.

"Can I help you?" He asked unsurely, not in a tone that I'd see as unfriendly but more one that showed he wasn't quite sure what else he could say.

I turned more on the seat so that I could see him properly and the first thing I noticed was how attractive he was.

The teenager had dark gelled hair and beautiful eyes that were currently filled with uncertainty. The light streaming in from the window was illuminating his features in an almost breathtaking way.

"Do you regret it?" I asked cryptically. His eyebrows furrowed, indicating his further confusion.

"What?" He'd only said five words by now but I was already infatuated by his voice.

"Choosing to be alone all the time." I explained. "Do you not regret it?"

His expression softened slightly as though he was in shock before it changed again to curiosity.

"Why would you make the assumption that I'm usually alone?"

"When you first saw me you seemed surprised, not by the fact that I was someone you didn't know, but that someone was actually choosing to be around you. You even looked around to check if I was talking to someone else when I spoke." He looked like he was fighting the urge to be impressed.

"Okay, then how do you know it was a choice?" He questioned slowly.

I smirked, this was an easy one.

"Well, for one thing, you just confirmed it in the way you worded that question. That part was more of a guess though, really. You don't seem like a hostile person so why wouldn't people hang around with you unless you preferred them not to?" I tilted my head slightly to the side at that question.

"I suppose you'd know all about the hostile type." His guards were definitely going down; he said this comment sarcastically and there was a hint of a smile now.

"Oh definitely," I ensured that I kept the seriousness out of my tone before answering this question. There was no need to scare him off.

He smiled a little wider and rolled his eyes playfully. Then he turned his expression slightly more thoughtful. "Listen, people around here don't hang around near me-"

"Why?" I cut him off without a second thought.

"Are you always this curious?" He wondered aloud.

"It depends." I stated casually. "You're deflecting. I asked why."

He shrugged. "They just don't."

"As informative as that answer _is_… if you elect to do nothing about it then clearly you _choose_ to be alone."

"I'm not good with people. It's easier to just be by myself." He broke eye contact and looked out of the window.

"Have you ever tried?" I asked softly.

"You know, it's not going to look good for your reputation if you get seen talking to me." He ignored my question.

"I don't give a damn about reputation or popularity." I shot back quickly, causing him to turn back to me and study my expression. "I know what's it's like to be on your own all the time, and no matter how much you may try to assure yourself that you prefer just your own company at first, it isn't a nice feeling." He looked down at the book on his lap.

"Sometimes it's better to stop pushing people away and start letting them back in."

He still looked unsure about it and I was worried that he was going to use the '_you're new, you don't understand what it's like here_' excuse, so I continued in a way that would make Jamie proud.

"It is never too late to be what you might have been.― George Eliot."

It wasn't the _perfect_ quote, but you got the idea.

He looked me in the eye again and smiled.

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice in the situation now, does it?"

"Nope, you're stuck with me now."

"I guess it won't be _too_ terrible." He said it seriously but with a smile that let me know that he was teasing. …I loved his smile.

"Cool. So, now that we're kind of friends, is there any chance that you could show me back to my dorm room because I have absolutely no idea where we are?"

He laughed at me. I couldn't even find it in me to be annoyed.

"You are _so_ new here." He exclaimed as he got up from his seat and started to lead me back down the corridor. I followed happily.

I raised an eyebrow. "What was your first guess?"

"I wouldn't forget if I'd met someone like you before." He grinned. _Oh my God, was that flirting?_

So maybe this wasn't exactly part of why I was at Dalton, but I had no idea how long I was going to be there and it couldn't hurt to have a friend, right?

"Besides, I don't even know your name." He pointed out.

I stopped walking right there and then and held out my hand in front of him as I introduced myself.

"Kyle Hudson." I couldn't help the twist of guilt that stabbed me in the chest at lying to him but I hoped that it didn't show on my face.

Apparently it didn't.

He followed suit and shook my hand. Following his next two words I think my heart just about stopped.

"Blaine Anderson,"

…_Well, shit._

**End Author's Note:** I realize that the Klaine interaction is quite short, but there will be plenty more in coming chapter as this starts to become more Klaine-centric so don't be disappointed. See you next chapter; don't forget to leave a review on the way out.


	8. Careful, Careless And Caring

**Author's Note:** As you've probably noticed when I didn't update on Wednesday, updates have been shifted to being just every Saturday. As it stands, I'm only a couple of chapters ahead of what's being posted, and if I stuck to updating twice a week there would be a big gap as I rushed to get more of this written under pressure, and I think the quality would suffer too. I hope you understand.

So, I know that this is under the categories of Friendship and Drama, and I'm sure you can see why, but with all the sarcasm and witty retorts that will start to become more frequent, it also has an element of Humor when appropriate. (And maybe something else too which I'll leave you to figure out for yourself…)

Enjoy Chapter 8! I know that it's fairly short in comparison to the others but hopefully that's okay.

**8. Careful, Careless and Caring**

"Pick up the phone, pick up the phone, pick up the phone…" I whispered the words repetitively as I listened to the tone that told me that it was still ringing.

Although, really, why call it ringing? Bells ring, yet the dial tone sounds nothing like a bell, it's just some stupid beeping. Only bells should be associated with ringing.

It's like when people call tomatoes a fruit. A tomato is _clearly_ a vegetable, no matter what the facts may say. You find tomatoes in regular salads, never fruit salads. Besides, if tomatoes are a fruit then ketchup is a smoothie and that is wrong on so many levels that-

"_Hello?"_

"Jamie!" I exclaimed, sitting up straighter against the wall from where I was sat on my bed. I lowered my voice a little bit. "Jamie, he's really hot."

I could already feel my cheeks flaming at saying that out loud. I didn't admit to finding people to be good-looking, it was just something I didn't do. (Actually, I didn't _meet_ that many people to have much reason to either.) I hardly ever said it in my head, let alone at times when other people could hear me.

…I'd be really insecure if I ever knew a telepath. That is, if they exist.

"_Who is? Kurt, just open a window or something if it's that warm."_

I resisted the urge to face palm. "It's Kyle, actually." I deadpanned.

"_Wait, you weren't referring to the temperature, were you?"_ She was starting to sound excited.

"Of course I wasn't talking about the temperature! Since when have I alerted you about the climate?! I mean he's really freakin' attractive!" I really should be careful how loud I start talking. Who knows how thin the walls might be?

"_Oh,"_

"Is that seriously all you have to say on the matter?"

"…_We _are_ talking about Blaine, right?"_

"No, we're talking about Finn." I said sarcastically. "You are only aware of two teenage boys that I have ever spoken to, think about this."

Finn was practically my brother now, I'd never think about him that way. Even when I first saw him I was a little bit out of it at the time and had more on my mind than how he looked. After that he was just the guy that knew my secret, which gradually progressed into him becoming my friend.

People don't usually tend to evaluate how physically attractive their friends are, do they? I guess I'd never really thought about it before.

"_Sorry. How is Blaine, then? I mean personality wise."_

This was one of those moments when I wished I had a phone with a cord so I could start twisting the wire around my fingers. It just seemed appropriate.

Wait, no. That's what people do when they're thinking about people they like, isn't it? I don't _like_ Blaine. I only just met him. That's too soon to develop feelings, right?

…I really need to work on my social skills. I know _nothing_ about people.

"He's… a little shielded, I suppose. He's alone a lot; he said he isn't good around people."

"_Well neither are you but look where you are. Outside of your work and the three people you class as your unrelated dysfunctional family the only people you ever speak to are the criminal types that want to cause you serious bodily harm. Surely his life isn't more messed up than that."_

I opened and closed my mouth a few times as I attempted to formulate a reply but couldn't find the right words. The sad thing was that she was right.

"Thanks for putting that into perspective, Jamie. It's good to know I can count on you to sum it all up." I sounded sarcastic, but in some ways I was being serious.

"_It's a pleasure to be of service,_ Kyle." She mirrored my tone up until the last word, and I swear you could practically _hear_ her grinning.

"Are you going to emphasize that name _every time_ you say it?"

"_I'm sorry, _Kyle. _I don't think I quite know what you're talking about._"

"Great." I sighed somewhat bitterly. "Well you were right about one thing."

"_Enlighten me."_

"You really are dysfunctional. I wonder about you sometimes, Jamie Clarke."

"_I wonder about you too, _Kyle Hudson."

I groaned and ran a hand through my hair self-consciously. "Really, do you have to keep doing that?"

"_Yes." _I could hear her trying to not laugh on the other end of the call.

"I called you for a reason, you know. Stop trying to change the subject."

"_Right, we're talking about your potential future boyfriend. Do carry on."_

I choked. "…_My future boyfriend? _Are you forgetting that I _have_ to quiz him about his private life? I've practically been assigned as a secret stalker."

"_Awww, but can I be assigned as secret matchmaker too? You might be cute together."_ She was whining, if that wasn't obvious from what she said.

"A, you don't even know what he looks like, b, he's probably not even gay, c, he'd never be interested in me… Need I go on?" It may have sounded like I was cool and composed, but I could feel the heat intensifying in my face.

Can you see people blushing when they're wearing fake tan? I should probably look into that. It'd be good to know.

"_You can't be sure of that yet. Maybe you can pull him out of his desperately lonely lifestyle and make gaybies together."_

I choked so literally that I inhaled too much air and started coughing. I wheezed out the words as I tried to recover, tears streaming down my face as I struggled to breathe. "You did not just say that. _Please_ tell me you didn't say that."

"_You know, I believe I did."_

"God, it sounds so wrong! –You're pretty much my guardian, you aren't supposed to say things like that!"

"_Who are you to deny a girl her fantasies?"_

"Seriously, shut up. Don't fantasize about me. Ever," I added quickly. "Especially if it involves guys,"

"_Okay, okay, I get it. You were talking about Blaine?" _She prompted.

"I just, I already feel really bad about what I've gotta do to him and I barely know the guy. What if he spends time alone because he has trust issues or something? What right do I have to go on ahead and make that even worse? It'd kill me if I broke him."

"_Honestly, he probably does have trust issues, but you knew when you first accepted this that it was never going to be simple. I genuinely don't know what else you expect me to say, Kurt." _I didn't correct the use of my real name this time. "_If you're going to have to do this then you're just going to have be careful. I'm sure you'll see a way around hurting anybody's feelings."_

"I'm a horrible person for doing this, aren'tI?" I muttered helplessly.

"_You can't think like that."_

"Can't I?"

"_Look_, _how about you forget about this stupid assignment for a moment and concentrate on just being his friend? You can figure out what you're going do when it comes to it, but surely it's better to actually be his friend than to fake it."_

"That makes sense." I nodded in agreement even though I knew she couldn't see me.

"_Of course it makes sense, I said it."_

Just then I heard the unmistakable noise on an engine in the background.

"Wait, are you driving? Jamie, don't answer the phone when you're driving, it's dangerous. You should know that it's-"

I may not have spent much time with my dad when I was younger, but he was at least _partly _a mechanic so I'd had things like this drilled into me from birth. Just the usual stuff: always wear a seatbelt, don't drive in a storm, never use the phone while driving, don't drink and drive…Well, actually I think I remember him saying not to have alcohol at all.

"_Calm down, _Kyle_, I'm not driving. I'm just stood next to a road."_

"Oh," I said dumbly. "Why?"

"_I was on a date when you called so I excused myself and I'm currently standing outside the restaurant."_

"Wait, _what_?" I chanced a quick glance at the clock. "At this time? Scratch that, you're _dating? _Why didn't I know about this? You-"

"_You've been busy. It's only happened recently anyway. Sorry, gotta go, I can't keep him waiting."_

"No, wait! Jamie Clarke don't you dare hang up this pho-"

_Your call has been disconnected._

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

Did you know that you're supposed to set an alarm to go off in the morning to ensure that you wake up on time for school?

I didn't.

Someone really should have alerted me sooner.

It'd been years since I'd had to wake up early to get to school, but even then I think I just woke up automatically or my dad would make sure I was up on time.

I woke to the sound of inconsistent rapping on the wood of my door. I didn't even check the time before rolling out of bed; I quickly put my contact lenses in and opened the door.

"Did you just get up?"

I was wearing a white V-neck tee-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, would there ever be any other time when I'd wear that other than for sleeping?

It was Blaine at the door. I'd say that I was surprised but I don't know who else I expected it to be, he was the one who'd walked me to my dorm after all. We'd chatted randomly all the way there and we were getting along effortlessly so far.

He was wearing perfect Dalton uniform and had his hair ridiculously gelled down again, but I found it more annoying that he looked so _awake_. Jeeze, what time was it anyway?

What right do people have to seem so conscious?

"Yeah, you woke me up. Why, how long have we got until class?"

"Um…" He pulled out a pocket watch and if I'd have been even remotely more aware I would have resisted the urge to roll my eyes because _seriously? _I made a mental note that Blaine was preposterously dapper.

Oooh, '_preposterously'_, I like that word.

"Twenty minutes?"

I swore loudly and he took it as an opportunity to laugh. I glared at him weakly.

"If you give me ten minutes to get changed please could you show me the way?"

He nodded. "Sure, that's what I was going to offer anyway."

"Thanks," I dashed back behind the door and madly rushed to get dressed.

When I finally reemerged twelve minutes later Blaine was leaning against the wall outside my door with two cups of coffee and a look of uncertainty.

"So, I didn't know your coffee order, but I figured you'd need the caffeine even if there isn't long left to drink it now." He handed me a latte.

"Blaine Anderson, you are a life saver."

"Well, I try." I went to take a step away from the door when he spoke again. "Are you wearing contacts?"

I froze and spun slowly on my heels. There was no way he knew. My eyes definitely looked green right now; I could feel the slight irritation of the colored lenses. How could he know?

"I… don't think so. Why would I be wearing contacts?"

"You don't _think _so?" _Well done, Hudmel. Smooth._ "It's just, you were wearing glasses yesterday."

I almost breathed a sigh of relief. "I should probably go back and get them."

Blaine looked at me strangely. "You can't even tell when you're not wearing them? Jeeze, how weak are they?"

"Oh, I _can_ tell, I just don't function properly at this time in the morning. I'm not the most observant of people anyway."

It should scare me how easily I managed to lie, or perhaps how careless I was acting, but it didn't. Luckily Blaine let it drop and changed the subject because he had something else on his mind.

"I have to make sure, are you certain that you don't mind hanging around with me? Like I said your reputation-"

"-And like _I_ said, I don't give a damn about popularity. You Sir, need a boost in your ego and/or self-esteem. Why do you think I don't want to be seen with you?"

He shrugged, but there was vulnerability in his eyes and he looked so small and helpless in that moment that all I wanted was to take him under my wing and protect him from the world. To protect him from whatever or whoever it was that made him think so little of himself.

He started speaking in a tiny voice tinged with bitterness. "No one else ever wants to talk to me. I'm just the weird loner boy who-"

"Don't." I was feeling the stab of guilt in my chest again as it began to tighten and I was starting to feel like I wished I was literally being stabbed. I probably deserved it too.

"Blaine, you can't think like that." I told him without realizing that I had just quoted what Jamie had said to me earlier.

"I know that I've only just met you and I have no idea what's been going on around here, but I can already say that you don't have to keep thinking that way. If people can't appreciate how awesome you clearly are then it's their loss. Although, really, what does it matter what other people think anyway? Why take any notice of other people's prejudice?

"Nothing that you could possibly say would drive me away from you so you may as well stop trying. I don't _care_ about what the rest of the school, hell, the rest of the_ planet_, think about anything, I can't leave you to go back to being alone all the time. I don't want to."

I hit me hard just how much I meant what I was saying. Sure, I may have only spoken to the guy for a little over half an hour by then, but I didn't _want_ to leave him.

I thought that maybe this was because I felt sorry for him at first, but that wasn't it. I felt like it was awful the way he'd been treated, even if I knew little about it, but I didn't feel_ pity_. Pity will never get you anywhere.

Next I considered that it was due to an instinctual need to follow my orders, but that wasn't it either. Almost every part of me was going _against_ what I'd been told to do.

It would be months until I finally came to the correct conclusion; I didn't want to leave him because I cared. I didn't know whether that was caring _for _him or _about_ him, but I did.

I really did…

**End Author's Note:** I get paranoid, so I'd love if more of you started reviewing so I know what you're thinking. I'm not a psychic, and I'd be scared of myself if I was, but like all people I love to get feedback about things that I've written. I know you're out there (in a non-creepy way).

(Thanks to Sofia Michelle for being a frequent reviewer, you're awesome!)


	9. I Probably Should Be Doing Homework

**Author's Note:** ¡Hola amigos! …Hi. Is it just me, or does a week feel longer when you're waiting to update?

Anyway, this chapter may be shorter than usual, but I hope that's okay. I'll make it up to you at some point.

**9. I Probably Should Be Doing Homework**

It didn't occur to me that going to Dalton Academy involved homework. I know; it sounds stupid, but I had a lot of things going through my mind at the time. Somewhere in my thought process I forgot that being there involved keeping up with the ridiculously large workload that private school educations seemed to entail.

I mean, seriously? Who needs _that_ much work? Do students at Dalton have a life outside of completing assignments?

I was used to my private tutor and completing all the work at home, so it was a bit of a shock to the system. Therefore, when I wasn't with Blaine, I could frequently be found in Dalton's library, surrounded by a mountain of papers so large that I wouldn't be surprised if it was the Eighth Wonder of the World.

I'd be sat there frowning, stressing out, chewing on the end of a pencil, shuffling through sheets, or using my laptop. Occasionally it could be several of these things at the same time.

It was on one of these instances that I saw Nick and Jeff again.

Well, _they_ saw _me_.

To be honest, I didn't notice them at first; I was too busy staring clueless at the work in front of me as wondering if it was even written in English. Whatever it was, it wasn't making any sense.

"Who _are_ you?"

I jumped in my seat a little bit, startled, and looked up to see the pair standing less than a meter in front of me with quizzical expressions on their faces. Immediately I was panicking and I dropped my pen in shock.

"I-"

"Because you must be someone pretty special if you can get Blaine Anderson to talk to you."

I would have been relieved if I wasn't so confused by what Jeff had just said.

"What do you mean?"

Blaine talks. I should know; we'd had numerous conversations by this time, and we were fast becoming close friends. I meant it when I said that he was a great guy.

Their expressions faltered slightly and turned more solemn.

"You don't know?" Nick asked quietly.

I shook my head. "Look, it was you two who directed me to the office when I first got here; you know that I'm the new guy. I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

They looked at each other in a way of silent communication and suddenly they were pulling out chairs and sitting across from me at the desk with a look that meant business.

"Blaine isn't exactly what you'd call a people-person. He doesn't have friends; he keeps to himself and refuses to make conversation with anyone."

"…I don't understand." I admitted slowly. If Blaine was like that then why did he ever talk to me?

They sighed. "Neither does anybody else."

"When Blaine first came to Dalton, he was a mid-term transfer." Jeff began to explain. "Although he never told us, it was obvious that he'd been bullied at his old school. It was all there in the way he reacted to little things; jumping at loud noises, flinching at any kind of physical contact, that kind of thing.

"He was quiet at first, but he started to become more comfortable around everyone –especially Wes and David. He's an awesome person, everyone saw it. Wes and David practically adopted him and Blaine was really friendly –we thought he was happy."

"He _was_ happy." Nick corrected.

"So what happened?" I questioned, not entirely sure whether I was simply curious or seriously concerned, but knowing that I wanted to find out the answer.

"See, that's just it; no one knows. He went home one weekend and came back to Dalton with a huge bruise just below his eye and no explanation as to how it happened. I don't think that it was his only injury either. We tried asking him about it and checking if he was okay, but Blaine started to isolate himself.

"He stopped hanging out with us, stopped talking unless it was absolutely necessary and stopped _living_, if we're going to be dramatic. He barely did anything anymore."

"We tried to show Blaine that we were his friends and we were there for him, but it never seemed to work and eventually we had to learn to accept it. That's just the way he is –or was, because of you."

"People have been trying to get Blaine to open up for months, but suddenly you come along and everything changes. So what's so special about you, New Kid?"

I wish I knew.

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

Not knowing about Blaine's past bothered me –a lot.

I felt awful about it, because I hadn't even known him for that long and what right did I have to go prying into his personal life story, spy or not? Regardless of all of that, it bothered me. It honestly did.

It hurt _me_ to think of Blaine hurting, and although I'd already suspected it, I hated that he'd spent so long by himself. Unfortunately, I'd been so trapped in my own thoughts that I didn't realize that I was still staring at him.

"Kyle?"

I snapped out of my daze, getting an uncomfortable feeling in my chest again as I heard that name. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"About?" He prompted curiously, turning so he was facing me more directly.

Maybe it was because the thought was already burning me up alive, maybe I had a no-brain-to-mouth filter that day, or maybe it was because I didn't want to have to lie to him more than necessary. One of those things made me say what I did next.

"Just something Nick and Jeff said to me."

Blaine froze. He looked terrified, obviously knowing what else was implied.

"You mean," He paused and licked his lips apprehensively, "As in, Nick Duval and Jeff Sterling? Like, the Warblers?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask." I answered honestly, searching his eyes for a flicker of any other kind of emotion other than fear.

He looked down for a brief moment and then back up and straight into my eyes. "How much did they tell you?"

Blaine didn't sound angry, which I supposed was a good sign, but his voice sounded a little shaky.

"Enough." I answered shortly. "They were worried about you."

He bit his lip and refused to meet my eyes suddenly, ducking his head and looking small and vulnerable again. "I just, I don't like talking about it. I don't think that I even know how to."

"I know," I said softly, causing him to look back up at me cautiously. "And that's okay. You don't have to. It doesn't change anything if you're the great mystery of Dalton Academy. Everyone has secrets."

Some secrets are so big you can't ever imagine letting them go. I have secrets of my own aside from the obvious that I've never admitted to anybody.

I knew better than anybody how deep secrets could go. How much you needed to let them go but sometimes felt as though doing so would be the worst thing in the world. How what they were hiding could become so important you felt as though the secret was a massive part of you, and that without it you'd lose who you were.

I logically knew that these fears were ridiculous, but I couldn't get past them.

"…Just know that if you ever _do_ need anybody to talk to, I'll be here."

"Thanks." He smiled gratefully. "Actually, right now I could do with some help on my French homework… I don't suppose you're any good?"

"Oui, Monsieur. Je parle français," I answered smugly. "I may or may not be fluent."

"Really?" Why did he sound so surprised?

"I had a lot of free time being homeschooled so…" I shrugged in a 'what can you do?' kind of gesture.

"You were homeschooled?"

_I do believe that we just established this fact…_

"You're very disbelieving today, aren't you?" I questioned rhetorically.

"Sorry, I just -no way were you homeschooled."

I raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You just… don't seem the type." Blaine said truthfully.

"As opposed to the walking stereotype that you were expecting to see when you heard the word 'homeschooled'?" I guessed. He blushed adorably but nodded sheepishly.

"I know it's stupid to think of everyone as a perfect match to a stereotype, but it would be so much easier if they were." He said quietly. "Sorry, I've just never met anybody who's been homeschooled before. Besides, I'm not used to being around people anymore; I'm bound to say awkward things."

I tried to lighten the mood. "Alright, Anderson, you don't have to play the sympathy card, I'll help tutor you in French."

Blaine laughed. "Okay. I'm warning you though; I may be beyond any help."

"We'll see about that."

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"…Oh, and this needs to be the infinitive …there's an accent on that 'e' …what's this bit supposed to mean?" I tilted the paper so that he could read the line I was referring to.

"Um, I don't remember. I think I mainly used Google Translate for that part."

I grimaced and shook my head mockingly, taking a sharp intake of breath through my teeth.

"Stop judging me!" Blaine exclaimed, beaming and batting at my shoulder. "Not everyone can be Mr. Perfect like you, okay?"

"I'm not perfect." I said honestly, ensuring that I didn't allow my tone to get too solemn.

"Are you kidding me? You're flawless." I willed myself not to blush as he started listing things off on his fingers. "You're fluent at French, you don't care about what other's think about you, you decide to talk to Dalton's resident outcast when you could have ignored me and become friends with the Warblers instead…"

"Hey! What have I told you about putting yourself down like that?" He rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Who _are_ the Warblers anyway?"

"Right, no one told you about that yet, did they?" He seemed to be asking this rhetorically because I didn't respond yet he sat a little straighter and started talking. "Basically, the Warblers are like rock stars."

"I'm sorry, but in what way is that the _basic_ terms? Are you trying to tell me that they all play electric guitar, have long hair and make diva demands?"

Blaine looked like he was trying to resist the need to laugh. "Who's stereotyping _now_? But no, that's not what I was trying say."

"Then…?" I encouraged.

"The Dalton Academy Warblers are the school's show choir. 'Rock star' refers to their celebrity-like social status. They're a cappella, and really good too. I mean, the guys are awesome, and not just at singing. Whenever they throw impromptu performances the whole school shuts down."

"Wait, let me get this straight. Nick and Jeff are in the Warblers, right?"

"Yes."

"But if the Warblers are a singing group, and they're the same guys that you used to hang around with, do _you_ sing?"

"…No?" Blaine said the word with such uncertainty that it no longer sounded like a statement.

"You hesitated." I pointed out. "Was that a question?"

"I can honestly say that I have never sung with the Warblers." He said defiantly.

"That's not what I asked. _I asked_ if you sing."

"The answer's still no." Blaine declared entirely unconvincingly.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you, but you're not exactly a very good liar."

I was already good at recognizing when people were being truthful or not, but on top of that, Blaine had the tendency to occasionally show all his emotions on his face like an open book. It wasn't difficult to see that he was being insincere in his answers.

"Well, obviously those designer glasses of yours are clouding your judgment, because I resent that."

I laughed at his ridiculous retort. Call that a comeback? "How would you know if they were designer?" I asked suspiciously.

"I wouldn't have expected anything less from you. Furthermore, what kind of self-respecting gay man can't recognize designers?"

My heart rate sped up dramatically.

"You're _gay_?"

"You didn't know that either? Sorry, is that a problem?" He looked torn between being apologetic or offended.

"Of course it isn't, _I'm_ gay."

"No way," His eyes widened in amazement.

"You're going to be shocked or skeptical about everything I say, aren't you?" I challenged.

"I have an excuse this time; I just found out that my gaydar is broken, this is traumatic!"

Why does nobody seem to think that I'm gay anymore? What –dying my hair and dressing differently changes people's perception of my sexuality?

Wow, society is messed up.

"Blaine, this is no time to be hysterical."

"It's the perfect time to be hysterical." Blaine answered on reflex, before his eyes widened comically. "Did you just quote _Toy Story_ to me? Oh my God, shut up. There's no way that you're real. Where the hell have you been all my life?"

"Oh you know, just in a cupboard under some stairs." I said casually.

I laughed as Blaine suddenly launched himself at me in a hug.

"You're amazing, you know that?" He suddenly realized what he'd done and awkwardly pulled back from the hug and cleared his throat, much to my amusement. "Um, sorry, I don't know why I did that."

"I get it, Blaine, you wish you could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone could eat it and be happy. You just have a lot of feelings." That was from _Mean Girls._

He squealed involuntarily and then bit down on his lip hard to stop himself from doing it again.

He shook his head. "Don't. Please. No one could be that incredible and I genuinely cannot cope."

I grinned. "But-" He cut me off with a hand over my mouth; I looked down at it and then at him in curiosity.

"I'm being serious." He announced, despite the obvious smile on his face and the playful shine in his eyes. "Stop it."

I tilted my head to the side and fluttered my eyelashes innocently. _What? Me? I'm not doing anything._

He whimpered. "No, that's not _fair_! You can't do that, stop with the face already!" He removed the hand that was covering my mouth and placed it gently in front of my glasses, allowing me to laugh softly and bat his hand away.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'll stop."

"Good." He nodded happily. "Now I'm going to go back to my homework and you're not going to quote anything awesome, okay?" He turned back to the math problems that he'd been neglecting in favor of being awful at French. "I still don't believe that you're real though. I'm sure I'm dreaming; either that or this is all my imagination."

I smirked; the opportunity was just too good to pass up. "Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

**Text Message to Jay:** How do you know if you're getting feelings for somebody?

**End Author's Note:** Don't forget to leave a review on your way out! See you next week.


	10. Feeling Serious

**Author's Note:** Double figures! Here's the 10th installment of 'Keep Your Enemies Closer'. Enjoy.

**10. Feeling Serious**

_Ping!_

I pretended not to have heard the incessant text tone coming from my phone and instead concentrated on the film I was watching with Blaine.

Currently, my phone was on my ever-growing list of things to ignore. This included: Jamie, how close I was sitting to Blaine, my thoughts, and my feelings. By feelings, I clearly mean guilt, because I obviously don't feel anything else at all, especially not about Blaine, why would you ever think such a thing?

My phone was only really being ignored because I knew it was Jamie who was texting me and I didn't think I'd be able to face up to speaking to her right then.

It was all because of that stupid text.

Honestly, I hadn't even intended to send it; I just pressed enter instead of backspace. It was an easy mistake to make.

I'd only typed out the message in the first place because I was confused.

I hadn't been able to stop thinking about Blaine -I still haven't- and I started to misinterpret the way I felt about him.

It was late. I'd been tired. My apparent lack of energy must have messed with my mind.

There's no way that I'm developing romantic feelings for him, right? The only things I feel when I think of Blaine Anderson are friendship and the occasional overwhelming rush of guilt.

Really this was all a big deal out of nothing. I'd generated this mess with Jamie through a sleep-induced ramble of nonsense.

Everything was going to be fine.

You know, except for the fact that I still had to betray Blaine if/when he told me something about his father and _Jamie still hadn't stopped texting me!_

Blaine looked over to me with a hint of impatience. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

"I wasn't planning on it." I replied smoothly. It was the truth; I fully intended to ignore my phone for as long as possible –even if it _was_ getting annoying.

"Well can you at least put it on silent then?" He requested. He glanced over to my phone screen; it was currently lit up with another unread message. "Who's Jay anyway?"

"It's short for Jamie." I answered, before I realized that the phone was angled towards Blaine and that _could not_ be a good thing. Who knows what my crazy sister-like housekeeper/guardian/friend could have been saying?

I controlled my inner panic and picked up the device in what I hoped seemed like a casual manner.

Judging by the way Blaine was looking at me, it probably wasn't, but I never had been good controlling my anxiety.

**From Jay:** _K, what the hell?! You can't just say something like that and then not reply. Stop ignoring me!_

I briefly flicked through the page at the other unread messages, but it was basically the same kind of thing:

_What?!_

_Are you purposely refusing to respond?_

_Really, this isn't funny. I need answers._

_Well this is mature._

_I, Jamie Clarke, hereby demand that you pick up the phone and type me a message._

…_You know, and send it too. That'd be good._

_Wait, I'm supposed to be annoyed, aren't I?_

_Whatever, I don't need an explanation. Go ahead, be mysterious. See if I care._

_I do, I do care. Please, stop the suspense, I don't like it._

_Reply?_

_Please. Pretty please with sugar on the top?_

_I'm literally begging you now._

_K!?_

Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief that she'd said 'K' and not Kurt before replying.

I guess I owed her an explanation.

**To Jay:** Can't talk now, with Blaine, I'll text you later.

"Your boyfriend seems annoyed." Blaine commented calmly. I looked at him strangely. "I didn't mean to read it," He added, almost defensively. "It was an accident."

To be honest, I'd probably have done exactly the same thing. Curiosity is natural.

I wasn't bothered so much by him reading my messages though.

"No, that wasn't what I- Jamie isn't my boyfriend."

"Oh." That was all that he said. His expression morphing into one that I couldn't decipher.

_Well that was informative._

"In fact," I continued. "Jamie isn't even a boy. Although, if that was your not-so-subtle way of asking if I have a boyfriend, then no, I don't. I never have."

"Cool." Blaine said lamely. "Same." He then became set on keeping his eyes trained onto the movie that we'd never really been watching, and that I knew he wasn't really listening to either.

Weird…

It was silent for a short moment.

"So is she a friend from your old school?"

"Homeschooled, Blaine. Remember?"

"Right," He nodded. "Is she-?"

"You can ask, you know. It doesn't bother me." I smiled reassuringly.

I wanted Blaine to trust me, and I know how selfish that sounds with all things considered, but I did. I didn't want him to be scared of asking me a question.

"Okay. Who's Jamie?"

"It's complicated." I stated.

He pointedly put the DVD on pause and looked at me in expectation.

"Jamie is almost my sister, almost my housekeeper and almost my best friend –actually, ignore the last one, she's too much like family for that, and she worries far too much. She's been around for half of my life. Legally she's my guardian –at least, I presume it's legal."

"She's your guardian?" He asked in a confused state of shock.

I nodded, smiling sadly. "My parents are dead, Blaine."

It still sounded odd saying it out loud. I thought about it, of course, I thought about it a lot, but I never talked about it. Finn and Carole never asked, Jamie understood enough to never verbally bring it up, Scott kept quiet, and as for Mr. Moore, he never inquired about my life outside of work.

_Possibly_ because it never occurred to him that I'd have one, which, fair enough, I sort of didn't, but it was _probably_ because he didn't care about me or what I did as long as I completed my assignments efficiently.

He's such a compassionate man, isn't he?

"I –I didn't know –I," Blaine stuttered adorably.

Wait, did I just say _adorable?_ What…?

"I know. It's okay. I've had a long time to get over it."

"You don't though, do you?"

I looked at him questioningly, not quite understanding what he was asking.

"You never really get over it; you just learn to live with it." He elaborated. "It still hurts, but you start to accept the pain, because it never gets better. Not really. It's still there; you just don't notice it as much anymore."

I was stunned. No one had ever said it like that before. "How did you-?"

"My mom left." He said, before I could even finish the question. "I don't really remember it, I was only young. I just came home from school one day and she wasn't there. Dad told me that she didn't want me anymore. I thought it was my fault…" He trailed off.

"I don't think that she's dead, but I haven't heard from her since she walked out. She's just gone, and I can't imagine her ever coming back. She never even said goodbye."

Blaine was starting to get choked up and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"The weird thing is," He paused, "I don't hate her. I don't. I just don't get why she had to leave. What did I do wrong?

"I know it's not the same thing, she's probably still alive, but it hurts _so much."_

A couple of tears had started to escape.

"Oh Blaine," I soothed, pulling him into my arms. He gratefully accepted the hug, still wiping at his tears furiously and trying to convince himself not to break down and start sobbing.

"I'm sorry, I'm being stupid." He whispered brokenly.

"No, you're not. It's not stupid at all."

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"I'm going to be honest; I've been standing here for ages, trying to think of an amazingly witty opening line, but there are just no words. I give up."

I looked up from my drink, already recognizing the voice. "Scott!"

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He feigned confusion, before quickly dropping the persona and grinning down to where I was seated. "Am I interrupting something?" He gestured to me sitting by myself inside a coffee shop.

"No, it's okay, I'm supposed to be meeting someone but I got here way too early so that I could take some time to think."

He nodded his comprehension before pulling out the chair across from me and sitting down. "So, Hummel -if that is your real name, would you care to explain what's going on?"

I shook my head, correcting the name quietly. "Kyle Hudson."

"What -your name?" He checked. "Like Finn and Carole?"

Scott was the only person outside of my 'family' who knew about that. He'd never met them, and I said so little about Jamie that I doubt he knew her name, but he listened to what I said enough to make that connection.

I just looked at him, my face blank, and my eyes screaming at him. "Who are Finn and Carole?"

He caught on unsurprisingly fast. "Oh, right. Obviously I know nothing about that." He winked. For a spy, he wasn't very discreet. "Are those my glasses?" He asked suddenly.

"You don't wear glasses." I stated slowly.

"Neither do you." He muttered under his breath. I glared at him weakly. "Seriously though, are they?"

"I don't know, Reed, sometimes it's best not to ask. I got given them to wear, so I'm wearing them. Why not talk to Matt about it?"

"Oooh, Matt now, is it? Nice to see you're on a first name basis now. Have you _bonded_?" He exclaimed sarcastically.

"Go away." I said flatly.

Okay, so I didn't _really_ say it that nicely, but that's the edited version, and it makes me sound more polite.

"Language, _Hudson." _Scott scolded with a smirk.

"Earth, English." I answered, as if it was a question. Scott laughed.

He leaned further over the table and held his hand out, palm up. "Pass me the glasses a minute; I need to test a theory."

I rolled my eyes but obliged to the request. "You look weird." I announced at the sight of him wearing black frames.

He ignored my input and instead ran a finger around the frames until he reached the part that curved around the back of his ear. He blinked.

"I knew it, these _are_ the same glasses. Man, _so many_ people have had to use these things." He repeated his earlier movements before removing the glasses completely and handing them back to me.

"What did you just do?" I quizzed, readjusting the frames so that they were resting comfortably. The view looked exactly the same as before.

"I'll text you about it later and keep up the anticipation." Scott decided. "You keep getting me sidetracked. Right now I want you to explain… this."

"You just gestured to all of me."

"Yes I did, don't question it. I need details, _Kyle_."

"You can be such a girl sometimes." I mumbled.

Scott didn't appear fazed; instead he simply looked at me, resting his head on his hand eagerly.

I sighed and began to tell him about my latest assignment; about Blaine and Mark and Dalton and Kyle. I had to talk quietly, this was a public place after all, and by the time I was done he looked horrified.

"You got a job investigating _Mark Harris_?" I nodded shortly. "Shit, Kurt, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"It's not like I'm directly meeting him, I'm just talking to B-"

He cut me off. "That's not the point!" He looked around and noticed that he was attracting attention so lowered his voice and leaned in a little closer, looking me directly in the eye.

It was more than a little unnerving.

"Look, I've heard about this guy, and I'm telling you now, if he finds out what you're doing you're as good as dead. He can be unpredictable, but no one _ever_ tries to do anything about him. Have you ever thought as to why that is?"

I stayed still, not sure what to do next.

"It's because they're scared, Kurt, and they have good reason to be. We've known about this guy for years –hell, when I first started out he was already a known threat, and he's getting worse. People let him get on with his own thing, not because they don't care about what's happening, but because they're smart enough to leave him alone. No one wants to get involved with a guy like that.

"He's what I like to call a 'casual criminal'. He can order for someone to be wiped off of the face of the planet without even saying a word. He's emotionless, cold and deadly.

"So frankly I don't give a damn what Mr. Moore or anyone else orders you to do, if it involves this guy, you don't do it, Kurt. You just don't. I'm not just gonna stand by and let you get hurt."

"But I-"

"No, you know what, that's it, I'm calling Mr. Moore. As your mentor and your _friend, _I'm not letting you do this. It's insanity."

"Scott you _can't_!" He stopped, cell phone already in hand, and looked at me incredulously.

"What about Blaine?" I asked softly, only realizing as I said it how pathetic that must have sounded.

"The kid?" He looked confused before he really took in my expression and he slumped back on in chair in defeat. "Crap, you did, didn't you?"

I looked down, suddenly interested in the table and my now-cold almost-empty cup of coffee.

"Hummel, what's the one rule of spying?"

"Don't tell anyone about it?" I guessed, spinning the cup of coffee absentmindedly with one hand.

He abruptly ended the action by resting his own hand on top of my wrist, causing me to look up at him.

"Don't let it get personal." He told me with a tiny, miserable smile. "The term 'keep your enemies closer' doesn't mean that you become best friends with the enemy, you know. It means that you should keep them close so that you can keep an eye on them and know what they're doing."

He sat back again.

"But he isn't my enemy." I reasoned. "He's just a teenage boy involved in something huge because of his parents. It wasn't something that he chose or controlled."

Oh.

I froze at the way I'd just described Blaine, feeling as if I'd been hit with a brick wall.

That was me, wasn't it? I'd just said exactly what I was.

"You really care about him, don't you?" Scott asked calmly.

"I don't _know_," I whimpered, dropping my head into my hands. "I just don't know anymore. I can't be having feelings for him, can I? I don't know what it's supposed to feel like and I just-"

I took a deep breath and ran my hands through my hair, looking back at Scott again.

"I can't leave him. I don't know what this is or what the _hell_ I'm feeling, but I know that. I can't, so please don't make me."

He looked at me sympathetically. "Okay."

"Okay?" I asked, finally seeming hopeful.

"Okay. I get it. Just- just don't break him, or you. Take care of yourself, Hummel. Do what you have to do. Keep your enemies closer, or whatever. Just, you know, not too close."

"Thanks, Reed." I said sincerely.

"No, don't thank me. This isn't a favor; this is against all of my better judgment. I'm letting you do this because I trust you, and I know better than to get on the wrong side of you. I don't even know what the guy is like."

"Oh, he's-" I caught a glimpse of navy and red out of the corner of my eye. "Blaine!"

Reed turned around, and there he was, just entering the coffee shop, dressed in his immaculate Dalton uniform.

I seemed to have forgotten that I was still wearing my uniform too, and that I'd originally intended to meet Blaine for coffee.

Oops.

"Hi Kyle," He greeted, once he'd walked the short distance up to the table. "Sorry, am I late? I feel like I'm intruding now."

"Of course you aren't late; I just got here too early. You're not intruding anything either, it's only Scott."

"_Only Scott,_" Scott scoffed. "Well thank you, I'm flattered you think so highly of me, _Kyle_." I kicked him under the table. _Don't emphasize the name _in front_ of him._

I think he got the message.

"Anyway," Scott stood up and extended a hand to Blaine. "Hi, the name's Scott Reed, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Um, Blaine Anderson," Blaine shook his hand politely.

"Oh I _know_," Scott said. "I've been told _all_ about _you_." He looked pointedly at me.

Kill me, kill me now.

It never occurred to me that Scott would be determined to embarrass or humiliate me if he ever met my other friends. Probably because I never imagined that it would happen.

"I don't suppose Kyle's ever bothered to mention me? I am one of his oldest and best friends, after all." Scott continued.

I replied before Blaine could so much as open his mouth. "As a matter of fact, I haven't, it's never come up in conversation. Plus, neither of those things are true."

"He's so charming, isn't he?" Scott directed at Blaine.

Then I realized that this was weird, the two of them were still standing up and I was sat at the table by myself.

"Didn't you have somewhere you needed to be, Reed?"

He looked about to say something sarcastic but he was interrupted by his phone beeping loudly. His face fell. "Apparently I do. I'll take that as my cue to leave. Nice talking to you Blaine, Kyle -not so much," He grinned. "I'll see you around."

"So, Scott's… nice?" Blaine offered, when Scott was safely outside.

"Not the word I'd use to describe him, but sure, that works."

"Anyway, do you want another coffee?"

"I'll get it. You want a Medium drip, right?"

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

**From Jay:** _I'm still waiting for that explanation, K._

**To Jay:** Then you'll be waiting for a very long time.

**From Jay:** _Kurt!_

**To Jay:**Kyle.

**From Jay:** _Don't you dare! I don't care what your name is; you have to tell me what you were talking about!_

_Is this about Blaine?_

_Are you falling for him?_

_You can't keep me hanging on like this, K._

_Hey!_

**To Jay: **You know, maybe if you let me get a word in edgeways, I might be able to answer your questions.

It's nothing, just forget about it.

**From Jay:** _I can't! Please, K, this is not nothing._

_Fine, you don't have to tell me everything, but at least answer me this: do you like Blaine?_

**To Jay:**_ …_I don't know. I think so. But Jamie, I can't. I'm supposed to abuse his trust and walk out of his life. I know what I have to do, and while I may not agree with it, what other choice do I have?

…Jamie?

**From Jay:** _"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go..." ― Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You'll Go!_

**End Author's Note:** In case it wasn't clear, in the messaging, each new line is a separate text. I hope it wasn't too confusing.

Quick question: what kind of car should Kurt have? I know nothing about sports cars, let alone sports cars in America, and in a future chapter it would be helpful to be able to refer to it as something other than just 'a car' –if you see what I mean. Any suggestions would be helpful, thanks.

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts in a review!


	11. Change

**11. Change**

I knew that I was driving myself crazy thinking about what would happen when Blaine found out about me, but I didn't realize the true extent that it was bothering me until one horrible nightmare.

"_Hey Blaine," I greeted as I walked through the doorway of his dorm room. "I was just wondering if you fancied doing anything today. We could watch a movie, or get coffee, like the usual, or maybe visit the mall; I feel like I haven't been in ages and I-"_

"_I'm not interested." Blaine deadpanned. His back was turned towards me, but I could tell that he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring aimlessly at the wall in front of him, clearly not doing anything of importance._

_"Oh." I said, surprised and downhearted. "Sorry, I didn't realize that you were busy. I'll come back some other time. Maybe I should just-" I started to back out of the room and had just turned away when I heard Blaine again._

"_I don't think you quite understand. When I said I wasn't interested, I meant that I don't want to do anything with _you."

_I stopped what I was doing and turned towards his voice in shocked confusion, seeing that Blaine had turned around to face me._

_Except the boy in front of me was _not_ Blaine._

_They bared resemblance to him, sure, with the dark hair smoothed down with gel and the same physical features, but then there were his eyes: cold, evil and filled with such a strong hate that I felt like I was trapped under his gaze._

_This wasn't the Blaine that I knew._

_This wasn't Blaine at all._

_I tried to summon up the courage to convince myself to speak, to say anything at all, but I physically couldn't. All that came out was a strangled sound._

"_What's the matter?" Blaine asked spitefully, rising up from his position and just standing there, staring at me with that cruel look in his eyes. _

"_Surprised? That's right; you weren't expecting me to find out, were you? I'm just stupid, defenseless Blaine, after all. I don't have feelings; no one cares about me. There aren't going to be any consequences if you play your way into gaining my trust and then walk out of my life without a second thought._

"_Well guess what? _I know_. I know who you are and what you're trying to do so stay _away_ from me! I don't need you, and I _never_ want to see you again!"_

"_Blaine, it's not –wanted to tell you –I never wanted to do this –let me explain!" I tried desperately to think of something to say to make it better, but there wasn't anything. I didn't know what I was saying as all of my replies tangled into one and I felt the lump rising in the back of my throat._

_"Why should I?" Blaine said indifferently, responding to my last plea. "There's nothing that you could possibly say to me that will fix what you've done, so just leave. Go! It's exactly what you've wanted to do since you first came to Dalton."_

"_No, B, it isn't, I swear. I'm _sorry._ Blaine, I-" I choked through tears._

"_Do I have to spell it out for you?!" He exclaimed, cutting off my profuse apologies. He looked me straight in the eyes. _

_Three words, eight letters; that's all it takes._

"_I _hate_ you." He hissed. "I hate you so _freakin'_ much that I hardly bear to stand in the same room as you. I think you're a pathetic excuse of a human being and I wish I'd never met you, _Kurt."

_He wasn't lying._

_He spat out my real name with such disgust and detest that it was as if it was a struggle for him to even say it, like it genuinely pained him. _

_And it _hurt_. It hurt more than I could ever say, because there isn't anything in the English language that could possibly express just how much it killed me that Blaine felt that way._

I hate you. I hate you. I _hate_ you.

_The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground with a pool of red spreading around me and all I could see was a pair of icy blue eyes, a flash of silver and then there was Blaine, looking down on me blankly, his hazel eyes neutral, and his final, biting remark ringing around my ears._

"_I hope you burn in hell."_

I woke up in a cold sweat, with tears streaming down my face and gasping for air. I couldn't breathe, I was shaking and there was a pain in my chest. I genuinely thought I was dying.

I was terrified.

My fingers were tingling as I blindly grabbed for my phone and called the first person I found in my contacts, which luckily for me was Carole.

I only managed to force out the words _nightmare,_ _can't breathe _and _help_, but Carole knew exactly what was happening. Oh the benefits of knowing a qualified nurse.

"_Honey, I think you're having a panic attack. I need you to breathe as slowly and deeply as you can. Really focus on your breathing, okay? Everything's going to be fine."_

I don't know if you've ever had a panic attack before, but it's not a pleasant experience to say the least. You get a deep-set feeling of dread and fear and it suddenly doesn't feel like you're in control anymore.

Carole was amazing. She talked me through the attack and didn't ask for an explanation, despite the fact that I'd woken her up in the middle of the night (which I had later apologized for and felt very guilty about).

By the time I'd finally calmed down, I knew that I had to stop all this worrying about the future and I had to focus on the now instead. I was a spy, I knew that, and spies couldn't afford to suffer from panic attacks and overthinking their feelings.

It was time to take a step back and concentrate.

I could do that, couldn't I?

Unfortunately, it seemed as though fate was determined to make sure that I didn't have a very good day.

Luckily, I made sure I didn't let it get to me.

First, I tripped on the stairs. Now, it may not sound like much, but Dalton Academy has _a lot_ of stairs, and most of the staircases are winding too. I honestly don't want to imagine the kind of damage that the fall could have caused if Blaine hadn't caught hold of me.

I _do_ know the damage caused when I twisted my ankle as I stumbled and then proceeded to hit it on the edge of the step on the way down.

"Woah, are you okay?" Blaine asked in concern, his hand still twisted into my blazer, not willing to let go because I still wasn't standing up properly.

Now, I know what you're thinking; your ankle? You haven't mentioned that in a while, I thought it was getting better? Well, it was, but like all injuries, you have to allow them time to heal. My ankle wasn't fully healed, and I'd just made it a hell of a lot worse.

"Kyle?" Blaine tested again.

I'm not too sure of exactly what I said next, but I'm fairly certain that what followed was a long string of swear words on my part.

"Are you done?" He checked once I'd finished, with his eyebrows raised in what appeared to be an impressed awe.

I swear a lot, don't I? I should probably work on that.

"You are _not_ allowed to look so smug, Anderson, you have no idea how much this hurts."

Neither did I. I'd momentarily forgotten that my ankle was hurt at all, but now? This wasn't exactly something that I could ignore.

"Okay, I get it. I'm very sorry that you weren't sufficiently taught how to walk without tripping over your own feet."

"Was that sarcasm?" I challenged, appalled. "Now is _not_ the appropriate time. And for your information I can walk perfectly fine, thank you very much. You can let go of me now."

Blaine shook his head. "I'm afraid that in all good conscience I can't allow that to happen. I don't think you can stand up by yourself. Although, would you prefer it if I held your hand?"

I made an obscene gesture. "Don't be so condescending."

"Ooh, big word. It's nice to see that even with a currently non-functional ankle you've still got full use of your fingers. Congratulations." Blaine laughed. "You're bitchy when you're in pain." He pointed out.

"You're more confident when you feel like the superior one in the situation." I countered.

"Touché,"

"Oh look, French did teach you something."

"Maybe I can teach you to walk again to show my gratitude?" Blaine offered.

I'd have grinned because I'd finally found someone who could be as snarky as me, but I was too busy trying to breathe through my discomfort, i.e. agony.

"Do you think you can walk?" Blaine enquired, his voice taking on a more serious tone again.

It was probably a good thing that no one seemed to be roaming the corridors by this point, because we were still on the exact same position on the stairs and this must have looked awkward to anyone walking past.

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. I didn't want to go too far and insult Blaine (which I knew I could have done pretty easily) especially when he was so concerned for my wellbeing.

"Then you leave me no choice."

"Woah! Woah, what are you doing?" I cried quickly, as he came pretty close into my personal space. My face had flushed red, possibly because I was embarrassed but more likely to be because I'd put my hands out to stop him, and I could unintentionally feel the outline of his chest muscles.

"I need to carry you downstairs." Blaine stated obviously.

"No, you really don't; I'll be fine."

"Come on, Kyle, who are you kidding? I could always leave you right here in the middle of the crime scene if you're that bothered."

"Crime scene?" Damn it, that boy was going to be the death of me. How was I so easily distracted?

He shrugged; both of us still completely unaware of how close we were now standing. "It's the scene of an incident, what else are you going to call it? Besides," He lowered his voice. "I have reason to believe that there's someone to blame for this. Maybe it wasn't the careless accident it's made out to be."

"Oh really?" I played along. "Just who is this mastermind that managed to deceive us all?"

"Why an evil genius of course," He put on a silly fake accent. "I'm not too sure at present, I'll have to get forensics and the DI on the case, but I think he goes by the name of Kyle Hudson."

I smiled, genuinely, at how ridiculous Blaine sounded.

"You, Sir, are your own worst enemy." He declared.

"Am I now? Here I was thinking that you'd just called me an evil genius, what a shame."

"It takes one to know one." He replied with a quick quirk of his eyebrows.

Before I could even ask what he'd meant Blaine had swiftly picked me up bridal style and had the biggest grin on his face that I had ever seen outside of cartoons.

"_Blaine!" _I shrieked.

"I'm sorry; I can't hear you over the sound of my magnificent victory." His words were punctuated with a laugh as he went to descend the stairs at last.

"Blaine, you _bitch,_ put me down!" I demanded. He stopped in his tracks. We hadn't even made it a few feet. There goes my hope of not shouting insults…

"I'll have you know," He started, looking me straight in the eyes. "That I am neither female, nor a dog, and only insults with some sort of truth etched into them are likely to offend me. However, if you are referring to bitch in the other context, then I can live with that. I'm only doing what's best for you; you'll thank me some day.

"Also, have you been censoring your speech? I must say, Mr. Hudson, your language is downright appalling today. I don't suppose you've lost your knowledge of the adequate English language as well as some dignity today?

"All these urban substitutes for words…" He trailed off. "What's so wrong with using adjectives found in the Oxford Dictionary?"

"It sounds like you've _swallowed _said dictionary. Blaine Anderson," I wished I knew his middle name for dramatic effect, "Stop trying to be clever right this second and _put me down._"

He grimaced sympathetically. "In response to the former, I can't do that; smartass comes naturally to me. The latter, though, might be a possibility if I lose my sense of responsibility."

I glared at him.

"Oh, so would you like me to drop you then –right here? There's only –what, twenty steps to go? If you're lucky you'll only end up with a concussion."

"You-" Whatever I was going to say died somewhere in the back of my throat as Blaine experimentally let go of me to prove a point and then caught hold of me again split seconds later.

"What –don't you trust me?" Blaine smiled innocently.

My arms had instinctively gone to wrap tightly around the back of his neck, I was breathing heavily and I think that my heart skipped a few beats. I didn't even have the energy to reply.

I buried the side of my head into the join between his neck and his shoulder, feeling the tiny gasp that he emitted when the cold of my glasses frames touched his skin just below his jaw, and kept quiet.

"That wasn't so difficult, was it?" I don't know whether that sounded patronizing or mocking, but it was somewhere between the two, and what difference was there?

"Please don't do that again." I whispered, still trying to get over the shock. On the bright side, it was better than a panic attack.

"I won't." He promised, sincerity ringing through. "But hey, it could be worse; this could be a fireman's lift! I figured you wouldn't appreciate the thought behind that."

"You're so considerate." I mumbled sarcastically.

"I thought so too!" He agreed enthusiastically. "Would you look at that, a seat? My, how very convenient that is."

Blaine had actually managed to distract me so much that I hadn't even realized that we were moving again. He must have been carrying me _really_ carefully.

The 'seat' was actually another alcove. Dalton seemed to be full of them, randomly dotted about the place. I had to agree though; it was good to finally get the opportunity to sit down again.

Blaine gently lowered me onto the ledge, which was thankfully a little wider than the one in the alcove where we met, and then moved to sit beside me.

"How are you feeling now?"

"I really want to slap you." I responded automatically, if a little quietly.

It wasn't technically true; he hadn't done anything _wrong_, but it was how I was feeling at that very moment.

Blaine nodded understandably. "The feeling's mutual. That being said, I don't condone the use of violence. You know, unless in the use of self-defense, or if they really deserve it. …Do I deserve it?"

"No. I suppose I can forgive you." I said grudgingly.

"That's good." Blaine acknowledged. "You know, you're ridiculously light." He said randomly.

I just looked at him, waiting for a continuation or elaboration of some sort.

"Not that I was expecting you to be heavy or anything, it just surprised me. Not that it should be a surprise, either. I just wasn't expecting –I mean, uh…

"It doesn't bother me either way, I'm stronger than I look anyway and –I'm rambling, aren't I? Oh shit, shut me up. Really, don't let me keep talking, because I will. I'll just keep rambling on and on and –oh my God, Blaine, _shut up!_

"Now I'm referring to myself in third person, it would really help if you just- …Ow."

"That was uncalled for, I'm really sorry." I apologized straight away.

"No, uh, that was… fine. It's all fine." Blaine murmured dazedly. "For future reference, you have full permission to slap me again if I start rambling. In fact, I encourage it. Use any means necessary if you have to."

"Define anything." I smirked.

"Don't you go getting any ideas," He warned. "You don't want to hurt yourself."

"I'm assuming that you mean aside from my ankle."

"You should never assume; it makes an _ass_ out of _u_ and _me_." Blaine advised. "Still, on this occasion you may be right."

I rolled my eyes.

"What I don't get is how you manage to screw up your ankle so badly just by tripping on a staircase?" Blaine wondered aloud.

"That," I said slowly. "…Is a very good question. I'll leave you to ponder that for a while, shall I?"

He didn't say anything next, he didn't really need to, but I understood what he meant just from his expression.

I sighed. It seemed like I wasn't getting out of it that easily.

"Let's just say that it's not technically the first time I've hurt that ankle recently, and I may have reawaken a previous injury."

"Cryptic much?"

"Why should you be the only one allowed to have an air of mystery?" I opposed.

"Oh, so you're contending with me for the title of Dalton's Greatest Mystery? Is that how it is now?"

"You know, I believe it is. There's nothing wrong with a little friendly competitiveness."

"Let the rivalry commence." Blaine agreed. We both grinned.

I'd say that it was strange how easily Blaine and I managed to change subjects, but to us, it wasn't weird at all; it just was. We spoke so effortlessly that we didn't even realize those kinds of things.

"What am I sat on?" Blaine questioned suddenly. He reached behind him and pulled out a book. "Hey! This is mine!"

I shook my head in incredulity. "I can't believe you right now. How many books have you left lying around this place?"

Blaine looked thoughtful. "You know, I have no idea. I can't even remember sitting here in the first place. I mustn't have been going to Dalton for very long when I left this here. I have better taste now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I quizzed.

"Well, the alcove that you found me in is a much better spot than this; the view is way better. I mean, look at this, it just looks down over the parking lot." He motioned to the scene below the window.

"I have nothing against cars," He explained, "I like them as much as the next guy, but there's a lot more to life than fancy technology and who has the most money to spend on their preferred mode of transport. -Like books, for example."

_A room without books is like a body without a soul.― Marcus Tullius Cicero, _I thought randomly. Yes, Jamie quoted things _so often_ that I now knew stuff like this off by heart. Sad, isn't it?

"Blaine, there's no denying that books are great, but they're _not_ real life. There's nothing wrong with reading, but you shouldn't use it to escape the rest of the world. One day you're going to have to start living."

_To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. ― Oscar Wilde,_ my mind supplied.

"I know." Blaine said simply. "Or at least, I'm starting to." He suddenly seemed to notice me sitting with my ankle awkwardly elevated from the ground. "We've missed a lot of class already; do you want to go see the nurse?"

"No thanks, I really don't think there's much she can do for me to be honest. I'll just have to take it easy for the next few days I guess."

"Are you sure? I mean, can you even walk on it?"

I shrugged. "You can do anything you set your mind to."

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

**From** '**Matt'**: _MH?_

**To 'Matt':**…Mycroft Holmes?

Sorry, you've lost me already.

What exactly is it that you're asking?

**From 'Matt'**: …

**To 'Matt':**Informative, thanks -that helped.

Oh! Wait. Does that stand for Mark Harris?

Right, yeah, that makes sense.

No. Sorry. I got nothing yet.

**From 'Matt':** _Firstly, that's appalling grammar._

_May I ask how it is that you have received no information in all the time that you've been at Dalton?_

**To 'Matt': **I want to say no?

**From 'Matt':** _Kid, you know your assignment, why is this taking so long?_

_What *have* you been doing?_

**To 'Matt': **Well, in my defense, you didn't technically give me a time limit.

**From 'Matt': **_Yes, but you're not there to enjoy boarding school and make new friends, K, you have a job that needs completing. If you don't think you can do this then we can always pull you out._

**To 'Matt': **No!

**From 'Matt': **_Excuse me?_

**To 'Matt': **I mean, yes, Mr. Moore, I understand, I just don't agree that that's the best thing to do.

Won't it look suspicious for me to disappear just as I'm beginning to become close friends with Blaine?

I couldn't do that to him.

I won't.

**From 'Matt': **_Are you meaning to tell me that you are not willing to leave that school because of what impact it might have on this boy's feelings?_

**To 'Matt': **Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying.

Please don't try to change my mind, because I'm not willing to listen.

Don't tell me that I'm not thinking this through, or that I need to sort my priorities, because I'm done with thinking.

I'm done with worrying, and dreading what's going to happen next.

I'm done with believing that I can't feel; that I'm just supposed to do what I'm told without fear of the consequences of my actions and the impact on everyone else.

I'm not that person, Sir.

I don't want to be.

So, while it probably doesn't fit in with the protocol, I don't honestly care anymore about what you think of me.

I'll complete your stupid mission like I'm supposed to, but I'm not going to allow anybody to get hurt.

**From 'Matt': **_You really believe that you can do that?_

**To 'Matt': **I have to.

**From 'Matt': …**_Good luck._

_I mean it._


	12. Unexpected Turn of Events

**Author's Note:** Hi. So, here's the twelfth installment, and it may be a little unexpected, hence the chapter title, but don't worry because I have it all figured out what's gonna happen next. I hope you enjoy it.

Just a little word of warning, I may update a little late next week –I have a very busy Saturday planned which includes me being out at 7am for pretty much the whole day with absolutely no internet access. It sounds bad, but I'm good with mornings and I'm actually looking forward to it, I just might have to get the next chapter up a little later than usual. It'll be here as soon as possible.

This chapter is one of the longest and most significant, so maybe that will make up for it.

**12. Unexpected Turn of Events**

Blaine changed everything.

As weird as it sounded, he made me feel _normal_ again. I wasn't the orphaned homeschooled spy anymore; I was just me –even if he did see me as Kyle.

I stopped focusing on 'Keep Your Enemies Closer' and instead it was like my life was revolving around simply spending time with Blaine (–you know, and schoolwork. I kept up with my education).

Strangely, I loved it.

Things were good –great, even. Sure, we got confused looks around school because no one could actually believe that Blaine was choosing to spend time with another human being and therefore I was classified as strange by default too, but most of the time I hardly even noticed.

I was naïve. I thought that everything was sunshine and rainbows and maybe, just maybe, it was all going to turn out okay.

Then came that one day that I should have been expecting right from the start; that one day that should have screwed it all up again…

It started off as just an ordinary morning. It was Saturday, in fact. Blaine and I had just been out to get a coffee and were returning to my car from the coffee shop.

(Not as if there was anything wrong with the coffee at Dalton; this was just something to do. We both had an unhealthy obsession with caffeine.)

"_Blaine,_" I scolded as we started to make our way down the sidewalk. "For the last time, it's just a car! Stop _laughing_."

"I'm sorry! It's just so-" He abruptly cut off his own sentence with another laugh. "Can I just say, when I was making that speech about expensive cars last –whenever it was, that wasn't aimed at you. I had no idea that you had this as your dirty little secret."

"It's not my -for the last time, _it's just a car!_" I was aiming for exasperated, but I knew that my expression was ruining the effect. Blaine had _such_ an infectious smile. "You know what? Honestly, I don't even like it."

"Why? It's a great car." Blaine's expression sobered up quickly.

"You just said-! That's it, I give up with you, I can't –you're just impossible." I made a wild gesture with my hands.

"I can't be impossible, I exist." Blaine fired back, grinning and walking backwards in front of me. "Seriously though, with the car thing, I'm genuinely scared of breaking it."

"Don't be, I wouldn't care." I reassured, shooting him a quick look saying 'you're going to trip if you're not careful'. "I'd be able to fix it quickly anyway, depending on how much damage you caused. Also, you _have_ already been in the car, Blaine. You were fine the first time."

"I know but –did you just say you'd be able to fix it?" Blaine checked, pausing his walking and allowing me to smoothly step around him in the confusion.

"Uh, yeah, I'm good with cars." Blaine stepped quickly to catch up with me. "Well, I used to be. I slowly faded out of helping at the garage after -you know…" Blaine nodded in understanding, and I was glad that I didn't have to finish the sentence.

In truth, I hadn't thought about the garage in a very long time. It was never sold, I knew that, and as far as I knew Charlie acted as the manager. Really, I had no idea who legally owned it either.

"You know how to be a mechanic, huh? I did not know that." Blaine looked impressed. We'd just reached my car and Blaine was now leaning against it and looking at me scrutinizing.

"Stop thinking about it, Blaine," I said calmly, making my way around to the driver's side. "It was a long time ago."

"It's the _ultimate_ way to break the stereotype, isn't it?" Blaine started rambling. "I reckon even more so than football, which is so stereotypically male that – or is it? I like football, I guess, but cars are-"

"Just get in the car, Blaine." I cut him off, rolling my eyes warmly.

"Oh, right. I can do that."

_Five-ish minutes later…_

"Kyle?"

I made a murmur that could have resembled a yes, not taking my eyes off the road.

"Is it just me, or is that car following us?" Blaine asked curiously.

"What?"

_Don't panic, don't panic, _I thought. _You're driving, you need to stay calm, everything's fine._

"It's probably nothing," Blaine said hurriedly. "I'm being paranoid, aren't I? Just ignore me, it'll be a coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidence." I muttered, still not looking over to Blaine because I was scared of what I'd see.

I heard him shuffling in his seat and turning to face me.

"What are you talking about?" He sounded hesitant, possibly a little scared, but I had a lot more to worry about than that.

It's amazing how quickly an atmosphere can change.

"Blaine, do you trust me?"

"_What?_" I only risked glancing at him for a moment, but I knew he was gaping at me. "You're quoting _Aladdin_ now? Is that supposed to help?"

I had the tendency to get really serious when I was doing something spy related –which clearly this was. I already had a guess of what was going on, but I needed to be sure.

"Do you trust me?" I repeated, uncertain about how I could possibly sound so calm at a time like this.

"Yes." -The truth. "But Kyle, I-"

"Blaine, _I promise_ I will explain all of this _as soon_ as I can, but right now I really need you to not question this."

_Oh _God_, this is really happening. This is it._

From the corner of my eye I could see Blaine nodding. Well that's _something_, I suppose.

"How clearly can you see the driver?" There was a limit to how much I could see in the mirrors.

He twisted his body around more to look behind us. "Middle-aged, cheap suit, kind of gross…" He listed off. "Oh, his nose looks broken."

"Shit." I muttered under my breath. "He's not supposed to remember me. Why can no one seem to let it go?"

"What? You know that guy? Why is he following us?"

"It's probably because I'm the one that did that to his face." Blaine choked in disbelief, eyes widening. "It was self-defense, I'm not –I don't go around getting into fights for fun." I added hastily.

"So what, he's trying to kill you?!" Blaine exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, he's just trying to scare me. Violence doesn't solve everything. I'm at least seventy percent sure that he's only trying to prove a point."

"What happened to the other thirty percent?"

_What happened to not asking any questions?_

"Hatred can do strange things to a person," I explained. "He's not going to be entirely predictable."

"Okay." Blaine said slowly, taking a deep breath and trying to steady his heart rate. "So what happens now? You can't just lead him towards Dalton."

"This is where your trust comes into play." I supplied. "Here, take these." I swiftly removed my glasses and held them out in front of him.

"But –driving and –I," Blaine spluttered.

"Yes, B, and I've currently only got one hand on the wheel. Just take the glasses and put them on."

He looked set to protest, but I caught his eye for a brief second and he accepted, slowly sliding them over his eyes.

"Thank you." I nodded gratefully. "Now, I need you to be quick. Turn back to face the car and at the same time run a finger down the right hand side of the frames," I instructed. "You'll feel a small button. I want you to press that and tell me how many people are in the car."

Scott had stayed true to his promise and had told me about what the glasses could do. There were a lot of things, actually, but this one changed the view to thermal imaging; apparently it was useful in the dark.

(I figured it would be easier to spot a heat source than a person, especially because of the distance that was still between us and the other car.)

It sounded like Blaine had just discovered this, judging by the shocked noises he'd just made.

"There are three." He mumbled eventually, quickly re-pressing the button so he could see normally again.

"Other than or including him?"

"Including him," Blaine answered, suddenly sounding a lot less relaxed. "Is that important? Are we gonna die now? -Huh, I never thought it'd end this way. Oh God, we're all gonna die!"

"Think happy thoughts," I suggested.

"Why –are they going to lift me into the air? How's this: we're gonna die quickly."

"Well now you're just admitting defeat." I sighed. "We're going to be okay, Blaine."

_Relax. They're not going to kill us. They're going to _try_ and kill us. And that is a very different thing.― Steve Voake._

Actually, as of yet, they weren't even _trying _to kill us. They were just following my car.

"You can't guarantee that! You're being calm and it's scaring me!"

_Choose to be optimistic, it feels better ― Dalai Lama XIV_

"Oh, would you like me to freak out, lose control and let us crash?"

"No." Blaine said shakily –no, literally, he was trembling. "I just –I'm terrified, okay? There's some creepy guy and his friends stalking us and I don't understand anything that's going on right now but you're acting like this is a normal way to spend a Saturday. _I'm_ _so confused._"

"I _promise_ you that you're safe, Blaine. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

I'd never forgive myself if I let Blaine get hurt. It was my fault he was even in this situation.

"I know; I meant it when I said that I trust you." He closed his eyes and took deep breaths again.

_You really, _really,_ shouldn't trust me._

"…You don't get travel or motion sickness, do you?" I asked softly.

He frowned, eyes still tightly shut, and shook his head.

Thus began the most dangerous driving I have even done in my entire life.

I must have been out of my mind. We were going so far over the speed limit that whenever we took a corner we almost swerved off the road –if that happened, we probably _would_ have died.

It was like I was ignoring everything I'd ever learnt from having a mechanic as a father.

I drove fast, randomly changing directions whenever I could, until I was fully sure that we were as far away from the other car as possible and there was no way they could follow us.

I had no idea where we were, but I pulled over and cut off the engine.

"…So, I guess the car isn't your big secret after all?"

I would have laughed, but it wasn't an appropriate time, and all I could manage was a small smile. "Yeah, you could say that."

"What was with the whole-" Blaine made a weird gesture with his hands. "-Crazy person… _thing…_?"

…The idiotically reckless driving that I just did? There's not really a logical explanation to that. Maybe I had a death wish that I didn't know about.

"I –you," I paused, twisting my hands together nervously. "I was going to have to get rid of them eventually, and they were making you feel uncomfortable. It was as good a solution as any."

I swear I could feel his eyes watching me, burning into my skin.

"You mean," He sounded confused. "You risked getting a huge speeding fine and almost getting us both killed, because some guy was making me feel uneasy?" I nodded, albeit a little shyly.

_Well it sounds stupid if you put it _that _way…_

"_Christ_, if I complained that it was too hot would you send missiles to go and destroy the sun?"

"Maybe, but I don't think they'd succeed." I joked lightly. "That could be going a bit too far, don't you think? I reckon it'd be more likely that I'd switch on the air conditioning –I might even buy an electrical fan or an ice cream for you."

Silence. All I could hear was the occasional whoosh of a car going past and Blaine attempting to steady his irregular breathing.

"…Why do you seem so in control?" Blaine quizzed, tone soft but clear. "How are you not losing your mind and freaking out right now? Does this kind of thing happen to you a lot?"

I'm not in control; it's all an illusion. Internally I'm panicking.

See above.

Simple answer: yes.

"I wouldn't say that this happens _a lot_ –I've been followed a couple of times before but never by car, so this is a first. I _do_ get into a lot of difficult situations though, and I can't afford to show panic, Blaine. You have to at least pretend to keep your cool."

It was weird; in life-threatening situations I seemed fine, it was only when it got to the real world that I let my emotions grab hold of me.

I guess it was just programmed into my mind as soon as I became a spy.

Right now I was being suffocated by the negative feelings of guilt, shock, disbelief and fear. Nothing unusual; I was beginning to get used to thinking I'm a horrible person.

I studied Blaine's response after I'd spoken, but it was hard to read what he was thinking. How can you observe someone's reaction when they themselves don't know _how_ to react?

"…Okay," He muttered. "So you obviously have a lot of enemies."

"Not exactly," I clarified. "There are a lot of people out there who'll remember me with resentment, but I don't see them as enemies. They didn't do anything in particular to upset or offend me."

I sounded too formal, impersonal, and I didn't like it.

Blaine didn't either.

"Will you just _stop_ being all mysterious and indirect for a moment and give me a straight answer? Don't you think you owe me that at least?"

I ducked my head. "I'm sorry. I'm trying, I just –I really hoped it would never come to this." I brought up my hand to rub at the back of my neck.

"To what!?" Blaine exclaimed. "For God's sake, will you just explain yourself, Kyle? Because frankly everything you're saying is just giving me more questions and leaving me more confused and I-"

_Just do it. He deserves better than this and you know it._

"There is no Kyle."

_Woah, slightly direct, don't you think you-?_

"…What?" Blaine asked quietly.

_I'm just saying that maybe you should be a bit more-_

"Well, there probably is," I corrected. "Kyle Hudson doesn't seem that uncommon as a name, but it's not mine. It's made up."

_-…Gentle? This is a lot of information for him to process, Kurt. You can't just suddenly say "I'm not Kyle." and expect him to be okay with that._

"I- I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm a spy, Blaine."

It was possibly the stupidest sentence to ever come out of my mouth –but how else are you supposed to word it? I'm a secret agent? I'm working undercover?

Blaine just sat there, staring at me; searching my eyes as though checking to see if I was being serious or not. Honestly, he wouldn't be likely to find anything; contact lenses aren't exactly made to portray hidden emotions.

He looked sort of… lost, I suppose. His jaw was dropped only slightly and he was still wearing my glasses, but on top of that there was something else. I still don't know what it was. He looked torn between what to think or feel and neither of us knew what to say next.

What _could_ you say to that?

"Blaine?" I tested. He'd taken to staring at a random point in the distance, hardly moving.

"Just," His voice sounded hoarse and so he cleared his throat. "Just give me a minute."

I bit my lip and gazed out of the window, letting my thoughts take over.

Mr. Moore would kill me for this. Not only had I told someone what I was, I'd told the son of a known criminal threat. Great job, Hummel; I'm sure your parents would be so proud to see you following so wisely in their footsteps.

I sighed.

Well, that's it. I failed as a friend, as a spy, and as a normal human being. Congratulations to me.

They said never to tell anyone what I did, they said never to let things get personal, I screwed everything up –well done, Kurt.

Maybe this was for the best. Blaine could hate me and then I'd have to leave and I could forget all about this stupid assignment.

I'd miss him, and I doubt that I'd like having a private tutor now that I'd seen Dalton, but surely it was better than the alternative.

Blaine had said that he trusted me. He genuinely trusted me… I wasn't even sure if I could trust myself. If there was one thing that I knew though, it was that I couldn't betray him now, I just couldn't.

"If this is some kind of joke-" Blaine started.

"No." I intercepted. "I wouldn't do that –I, no."

"But you-" Blaine faltered. "Spies aren't- …say that again?"

_When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth -Sherlock Holmes_

"You heard me." I said softly.

"I know, I just- I don't… how?" Blaine tried, still at a loss for words.

I get it; it's a lot to come to terms with.

"It's what my parents did." I answered. "I don't know much about them in that aspect though. They were gone before they got a chance to explain things to me."

Whatever happened next, I owed him this explanation at least. I might not have been able to tell him everything, but I could say this.

"What –so they died and people just decided to have you take their place?" Blaine exclaimed. His face fell as soon as he said it, taken aback by his own outburst. "Sorry, I didn't –that was insensitive."

"It's okay; I know you didn't mean it like that." If there was anyone who should be apologizing it was me for introducing Blaine to this mess. "But no, it wasn't like that. I mean, I was given the option to say no, but I don't think anyone ever does. It felt like the only choice at the time."

"…How long?" He asked after a brief moment.

"Almost four years now."

Sometimes it feels much longer. Sometimes I feel a lot older than just seventeen. Then there are situations like this and I remember just how naïve I really am.

"You were only thirteen." It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

"…Who are you?"

I looked up, startled. He'd finally taken off the glasses. "Blaine, I- I can't."

_I can't tell you who I am._

"So presumably you can't tell me what you're doing at Dalton either?"

_I _definitely _can't tell you what I'm doing._

"Or why?" He continued.

…_I don't know anymore._

"Okay." Blaine agreed.

"What's okay?" I questioned carefully.

"Everything," Blaine shrugged. "So, you're a teenage spy posing undercover in a private boarding school and you can't tell me what it is specifically that you're doing. That's fine."

_...Excuse me?_

"Are you for real?" I blurted out before I could even think.

He smiled. "Personally, I'm not seeing any problem here. I mean, aside from your name, have you ever lied to me?"

I paused. "Um… I don't _think_ so. I don't- I'm not sure. No?"

"So, all the times we've been hanging out, that person was you –it was your personality?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"Then all you've ever done is tell me a false name and withhold the truth –things that you had no choice over because it's part of your job. I don't see what the big deal is here.

"You're a spy, that's all there is to it. It's just another part of you and while I may not particularly like the idea of it, you're still a great person and I like being around you. I care about you. Why should your job change that?"

God,_ Blaine, if only you knew._

As soon as I got the chance I was supposed to be tricking Blaine into telling me about his dad and walking out of his life without another word.

_I can't._

"In fact," He continued. "This just makes things make a lot more sense. The flashy car, the homeschooling, your reaction when you forgot your glasses, your eyes…" Blaine listed off.

"Wait, my eyes?" I asked, snapping out of my daze just at that moment.

"Yeah, I mean, you _are_ wearing colored contacts, right? It's either that or you just don't let your emotions show _at all_, but you don't seem like that kind of person. It's really hard to read what you're thinking sometimes, your eyes just stay neutral. I guess it could be because you're, you know, a spy, but-"

"No, you're right, it's contacts."

"Really?" If anything, he seemed even happier. "Score one for Blaine."

"You're, you're taking this ridiculously well." I pointed out, faltering thanks to the shock that came with discovering that.

"Am I?" He asked curiously. "Well, not everything happens like it does in the movies. Maybe I'd be more freaked out if you were a vampire. -Are you a vampire?"

"No." I scoffed.

"Good, because I doubt I'd deal with that so calmly." He looked thoughtful. "Have you ever hurt anybody?"

"Yes," I said simply. "But only ever in self-defense, and as far as I know it's never more than a broken bone or two. They've always deserved it."

I'd gotten into a proper fist fight on one occasion, but my opponent was big and clumsy so I managed to dodge most of his poorly aimed hits and left pretty much unscathed; _he_ got what was coming to him. There were a few guys actually, but I had back up so it was basically evenly matched between us all.

"That's okay then."

I stared at him incredulously.

"What?" He asked. "Did I say something wrong?"

"I tell you I'm a spy and you ask if _you've_ done anything wrong."

"…Yes?" Blaine said unsurely.

"Blaine, that's not normal. You're supposed to be yelling or –I don't know, you're supposed to hate me. How are you so accepting?" _Is this another dream?_

I mentally debated how strange it would look if I subtly pinched myself to check that I was awake.

"First of all, you can't tell if you're dreaming whilst you're dreaming, so yes, this is real life." _Did I say that out loud? _"Secondly, no, you didn't say that out loud; you're just panicking so much that I can guess what you're thinking. I'm guessing correctly if your expression is anything to go by.

"Honestly, _none _of this is normal, and I'm not _supposed_ to be doing anything, I don't think there's a stereotypical reaction to finding out that your friend is a spy, and it isn't as if you're a murderer –or, well, a vampire. And I could never hate you, probably not even if you were a _murderous vampire_, so stop panicking.

"Believe it or not, I'm actually a very accepting person. As I've already told you, I don't have a problem with what you do as long as no one's life is in danger."

Apparently I still looked unconvinced. Blaine sighed.

"…When you first met me, you said that I was stuck with you, and well, it works both ways. I'm not going anywhere. I don't scare that easily."

"Oh yeah?" I challenged his last point. "What about yesterday?"

He frowned in confusion before realization hit. "Oh. For the record, I was not _scared,_ I just…"

I raised an eyebrow. "You just what…?"

"Well no one _likes_ spiders."

I laughed.

"See!" He said in triumph. "I made you laugh! Do that more often, I don't like it when you get serious."

"I have you be serious _sometimes_, Blaine."

"Why waste time being serious when you can be fun instead?"

I rolled my eyes. "So, you're genuinely okay with this?"

"Sure." He said enthusiastically. "Although, I do have one question..."

I tried to ignore the countless bad possible inquiries that crossed my mind. "Shoot."

"What do I call you now?"

I frowned. "Um, you call me Kyle, the same as always."

"Do I have to?" He whined. "It won't feel right now that I know it's not your real name."

"Well what else are you going to call me? Look, if it makes you feel any better, KH are still my initials." It wasn't much in the way of compensation, but for some reason Blaine was happy with that small bit of information.

"Then I'm calling you K." He confirmed, nodding shortly as he said it.

I just looked at him.

"What?" He questioned.

"Nothing," I said simply. "You're just kind of amazing."

**End Author's Note:** Please let me know what you thought in a review, I love receiving them.


	13. Universally Acknowledged Truths

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone! Sorry that I'm updating late but hey, I did warn you. This chapter is long too so I hope that makes up for it. Just a little warning, I have a crazy week this week so I may update late against next time. I'll try my best to get an update A.S.A.P!

Here's Chapter 13!

**13. Universally Acknowledged Truths**

Some sentences are always going to be scary. Things like _I'm pregnant, _or _based on a true story, _and especially _unable to connect to the internet._ For me, one of these was _code blue._

Now, it doesn't sound like much, but it was enough to have me sprinting out of class and not stopping until I'd reached my car.

Code blue meant _help, _or_ I'm in danger_. It was our secret way of saying SOS.

That was why I'd panicked so much when I received the words in a text from Scott.

Why blue, you may ask? Why not any other color?

The answer is simple; red is too cliché. Blue is a great color, so why not use blue?

Anyway, the words weren't important, the fact was that my friend was in serious trouble and it was up to me to save him.

It had been an agreement that we'd made right back when I first started out as a spy: if either one of us was in jeopardy we'd help each other out no matter what. In fact, _code blue_ was so serious that we'd never even had to use it before –which possibly explained why I was panicking so much.

If I'd stopped to think about it, I would have realized that leaving class without a word of explanation to anyone was… well, _bad_, but there wasn't any time for that. I'd think of an excuse later. Maybe Mr. Moore would cover for me. Who knows?

After a brief conversation with Scott, which lasted all of ten seconds because he couldn't really talk for obvious reasons, I was speeding off in his direction. There was no turning back now.

Scott was my friend, and if you know that your friend is in a perilous situation you get them out of it. It's not something that you have to think about.

…And if it puts your own life at risk too, so be it.

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"I'm so sorry." Scott drawled miserably as he staggered along beside me.

"I know. You don't have to keep repeating it; I've already told you that this wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was." He moaned, wincing as he discovered that doing so triggered a sharp pain from his ribcage. "I shouldn't have gotten you involved. I was the one who made the mistake and I should be the one to pay for it, not you. I should be old enough to deal with this by myself. _Why_ did I have to make you come here?"

"Keep going, really, your belief in my abilities is flattering." I rolled my eyes. "I'm not a kid anymore, Reed, I can make my own choices and I can look after myself."

The last comment may have needed re-evaluating given the fact that I'd looked after myself _so well_ that we'd gotten to this point, yet the argument still stands.

"That's not what I meant." Scott rasped, bringing a hand up to clutch at his side as the pain suddenly became too intense. I stopped and turned to him in concern. "I just –_God_, look at the state of us. Not only can I not even breathe, but I went and got you injured too! I officially no longer classify as a responsible adult."

"I'm fine." I insisted, even though I definitely _was not_ fine.

"You're limping." He pointed out unhelpfully.

"You know that I'd already twisted my ankle, it's just playing up again." I defended.

"-And you're-" He started. I knew he was going to mention the dozens of bruises and who knows what else I had wrong with me.

I cut him off. "Yes, I know. We got wounded, Scott. Stop beating yourself up about it,"

He glared at me. In retrospect, maybe the wording could have been _slightly_ better.

I sighed. "Look, _you_ screwed up, _I_ screwed up, let's just move on. It's all in the past. Accidents happen, you made a miscalculated error, we learn from all that stuff so-"

"You didn't screw up." Scott muttered distractedly, suddenly looking up from his hunched over position with a frantic expression. "When did you screw up?"

_Oh._

I blushed involuntarily, pointedly refusing to make eye contact and trying to change the subject.

"Screw up? Me? I didn't say that. Scott, you have a possible concussion and probably a few broken ribs, you're not thinking straight –hey, maybe you're delusional. Woah, is that the time?" I glanced down at my watch-less wrist. "Wow, we really should be going, you should probably get your chest bandaged up and I need to-"

"Kurt." He cut in, practically hissing out my name as he attempted to straighten his posture to no avail. "What did you do?"

"Oh, nothing much," I said quickly. "I may have told Blaine that I'm spy and that Kyle Hudson isn't my real name but whatever, no big deal."

"What!" Scott exclaimed loudly, accentuating it with a particularly heart-wrenching cry of agony because he really shouldn't have tried to make a noise that loud. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Firstly, you are not in a position to lecture me on how irresponsible my actions were when you just got us both involved in a fight." His fierce gaze faltered slightly. "Also, you don't know him like I do, Scott. You've met him, and he's nothing like you claim his father is –he's like no one I've ever met before. I had to tell him. There was a car chase and-"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Hummel; I just don't want to see you get hurt."

I shook my head. "It wasn't your fault that-"

"That's not what I'm talking about."

I gave a small smile. "I think it's a little too late if you're worried about protecting my heart."

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"I'm not going to the hospital." I think Scott was aiming for defiance but he had lost so much energy just from fighting unconsciousness that he sounded more drained that anything else.

"We're not _going_ to the hospital." I replied matter-of-factly. Hospitals ask questions, and I don't think there was any logical explanation to why the two of us were dragging ourselves through the streets looking like we'd just been beaten up.

I suppose we could have said that we'd been attacked and robbed, but that would probably lead to asking us for their descriptions and why I still had my cell phone in my pocket and the whole thing would have spun drastically out of control.

There was absolutely no need to make my life any more complicated than it already was.

Due to all this, we were left aimlessly trailing around –well, Scott thought it was aimless, at least. I knew exactly where we were going.

We couldn't even use our cars; I couldn't (shouldn't) drive because of my ankle, and Scott couldn't drive because not only was he in so much discomfort that he couldn't walk properly, but there was a huge chance of him passing out at the wheel. We may have done some idiotic things, but neither of us were going to risk that happening.

"Where _are_ we going?" Scott asked.

"Let's just say that it's lucky for you that I know a nurse."

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"Thanks again, Mrs. Hudson." Scott said gratefully as she readjusted his bandages for the final time.

He was still in some pain, but he'd had some painkillers and was feeling a little more like the living, at least. His mood had brightened somewhat since arriving at the Hudson household.

"I've already told you, call me Carole." She smiled, finally sitting back to admire her handiwork. She nodded contently and Scott took the opportunity to take his shirt back and start buttoning it up again.

"I do wish you boys would start being more careful though." She added as an afterthought. "There wouldn't be any reason to thank me if you stopped getting yourself hurt."

I grimaced guiltily. "Sorry for ruining your day off."

She turned to me and shook her head slightly, leaning back in her chair to a more comfortable position. "You haven't ruined anything, Kurt. You know that I love spending time with you. Like I said, I just wish that I didn't have to keep seeing you like… well, this."

"Actually, this is my fault." Scott inputted. "Kurt shouldn't even have been there, but I wasn't thinking and," He paused. "I'd probably be a lot worse than this if it wasn't for him."

Carole briefly glanced at me with a look of pure pride before wordlessly placing a hand reassuringly on top of Scott's, getting a smile from him in return.

"Well it's lovely to finally meet you, Scott, regardless of the circumstances."

"You too," He said warmly. Then he stopped and looked confused. "Wait, finally?"

I rolled my eyes. "Do you really doubt me that much? Just because Blaine didn't know who you were doesn't mean that I don't talk about you to _anyone."_

Scott beamed. "That's because I'm your totally awesome friend and you couldn't go on without someone knowing about that, right?" Beside him, Carole disguised a laugh with a fake cough.

"I've mentioned you a couple of times to Carole, Reed, there's no need to let it get to your head. It's got too much to deal with already with that concussion." I teased.

Carole looked as if she'd suddenly remembered this again and went into protective professional nurse mode. "Are you sure you're going to be okay with that? You really should get the proper observation just in case you-"

"Oh, it's okay." Scott said smoothly. "I've dealt with more than this in the past. Getting injured, it's sort of an occupational hazard to us."

He went to shrug but stopped quickly, glancing down to his chest, and instead awkwardly sitting back as though it had never happened.

"It really is." I agreed absently. "Maybe we should start requesting more self-defense classes? It's one thing being able to hold your ground in a fight, but it would be great if we could avoid getting hit at all…"

Scott nodded his agreement. "We might even get them to consider our suggestions for once. This," He pointedly gestured to his bandaged ribs. "At least proves that we really do need more training."

Be a spy -you get loads of injuries! What's not to like?! …Yeah, this really wasn't all as glamorous as it was made out to be. I mean, sure, we're good at what we do and can handle ourselves in rough situations, but _come on;_ we're not _ninjas_: we still end up getting hurt.

I wondered how I was going to explain this when I got back to Dalton. What if one of the teachers got the wrong idea? It would be easy enough to tell Blaine the truth, but if anyone else asked…

Blaine, I thought suddenly. He'd been great to me, yet in some ways that made things even worse. Every little thing he did made me feel for him that little bit more and the guilt that it created was slowly beginning to choke me. Why did he have to be so… so Blaine? It would be so much easier to hate him.

He may have known that Kyle wasn't real and that I was a spy, but that wasn't the half of it. He didn't know that I was spying on _him_, and that I had to leave him as soon as my assignment was over.

Everything was just so messed up.

Even after promising myself that I was going to stop worrying, I still couldn't get him off my mind.

"…Kurt?"

-And now I was daydreaming as well –…awesome.

"Huh?" I asked not-so eloquently.

"I asked how things are going at Dalton." Carole repeated; gesturing towards my uniform which for some reason had managed to stay perfectly intact, save for my tie now being loosened. No marks, no tears, it just looked a little bit creased.

It was miraculous, really. Although, for the amount of money the blazers probably cost, you'd expect them to be indestructible.

My glasses were also undamaged, although that's probably because I threw them off as soon as I'd jumped into my car. For some reason, I felt strange without them –like I forgot that I was 'Kyle' until my hair started to flop over my eyes again and I realized that it was a different color.

God, I missed my hair product…

Still, I supposed Blaine used more than enough for the both of us.

"Oh, right, great," I murmured, answering her earlier question without really thinking about it. "He's great."

"Who's great?" There was a hint of entertained suspicion.

"Uh, no one," I corrected, mentally kicking myself. "I just meant-"

"He was daydreaming about Blaine." Scott supplied, grinning because he got to tease me about it regardless of how much that fact alarmed me. Maybe the painkillers had started to make him a little high…?

"Were you now?" Carole regarded me with much the same expression at Scott.

_Thanks, Reed._

"I-" Honestly, I don't know what I was about to say. I didn't even get the chance to finish formulating a reply mentally before Scott cut in, clearly not about to let me deny it.

"He was." Scott aimed at Carole eagerly. "You know about Blaine, right? He's the guy that Kurt spends every waking minute around."

"That is _not_ true." I corrected. Scott turned to me disbelievingly and I faltered. "I mean, we're not in all the same classes and-"

"I didn't hear you denying that you were fantasizing about your beloved." Scott laughed.

"He's not- I don't- but I- you-" I gave up, and instead just sighed. "You are a horrible human being, Scott Reed."

He laughed again.

"Awww, is he cute?" Carole asked excitedly, her expression brightening as her eyes started to shine.

I assumed that she was referring to Blaine, not Scott. …Although I _suppose_ Scott can be –no. Let's not get into that. Gross, he's like my older brother.

_What is it with everyone obsessing over my (pretty much non-existent) love life? Jamie, Carole…_

"If there was such a thing as male pregnancy, their children would be freakin' gods!" Scott exclaimed, much to Carole's delight and my horror. -_Yep, definitely high._

_Apparently I can add Scott to that list… Well, there's always Finn._

The fact that Finn was now my source of sanity really didn't help to improve my outlook on the situation.

"Are you sure that you're straight?" I choked out, fully aware that not only was I flushed bright red but I was gaping uncontrollably.

"I can act slightly metrosexual, but yeah, I have a girlfriend."

I shook my head as if trying to erase his previous comment from my brain.

It didn't work.

"Can you please stop now?" I requested, still ridiculously embarrassed. "Go gush over somebody else."

"Kurt," Carole said gently, her smile still in place. "There's nothing wrong with developing feelings for this boy."

"Yes, there is." I insisted. "I have no problem with being gay, Carole, but it doesn't make a difference whether Ilike Blaine or not. Nothing can ever happen between us."

"Where did you get a stupid idea like that?" She asked.

Scott quickly filled her in. "He thinks that because he's supposed to be spying on Blaine, he's a horrible person and there's no way they could be in a relationship."

"Then I'm sorry, but Kurt, you're an idiot." Carole said simply.

"What?"

She shifted and looked directly at me. "Let me ask you something. Is Blaine gay?"

"Yeah…" I said slowly.

"Does he like you?"

"I don't- I'm not sure. What are you-?"

"Kurt, if there if a gorgeous gay guy out there who you like and who may or may not like you back, then why are you trying to convince yourself that he's only ever going to be your friend?"

"…Have you not been listening? For one, he's the son of a super scary-"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Carole interjected. "One of my best friends used to have an alcoholic father, yet she was the nicest person I've ever met. Haven't you learnt just from talking to Blaine that he's practically the polar opposite of this guy? Why should it matter where he's come from? It's just his dad."

"I- it doesn't." I stuttered. "But it's not just that-"

"Kurt, everything you're saying just seems to be you trying to persuade yourself against the possibility of you and Blaine, when really there's no need to do so. Maybe you will stay friends, maybe you won't, but where's the good in worrying about it? Why are you trying to deny yourself happiness?"

I just looked at her, stunned. Was that what I was doing? I didn't even –oh, wow.

"Okay, so, you were told to spy on him, but _you're_ the one in control of what you do. Yes, the situation you're in is… well, pretty ridiculous actually, but there's no reason why it can't all work out. I mean, you're Kurt Hummel, teenage spy, anything is possible."

"…That," Scott said slowly. "Was the best advice I have ever heard. I really want to meet Finn if he has a mom this great!"

Carole just smiled; that comforting smile that she always seemed to have, and looked over to me as she spoke to Scott.

"You've already met one of my sons."

I would be lying if I said that my eyes weren't shining with unshed tears as I rambled out some random incoherent response to that statement, and I refuse to be ashamed of that.

I'd seen Finn as my brother for so long, yet it never occurred to me how much I thought of Carole as a mom. She'd never be able to replace my birth mom, and that was okay, but she was basically my honorary parent.

"Kurt, have you really never realized how much of a member of this family you are?" She questioned softly. "Honestly, Finn isn't the smartest or most responsible person around, but I have still never worried about someone as much as I worry about you.

"You have been through so much in so little time, and you're still doing it all. Sometimes I swear I'm feeling just as stressed as you are about all this drama –you compete with New Directions single-handedly!

"From the moment I found you, I knew that you were going to be an important part of my life, Kurt, and I was right. You are a wonderful person, okay? Don't ever forget that. You deserve the world and more."

"Awww!" Scott broke the comfortable silence that followed with a very un-manly squeal. "And I had to be here to ruin a perfect family moment!"

We laughed.

"What's so funny?" A new voice interjected, one that I instantly recognized.

"Hey Finn," I greeted.

_Finn's back? Wow, how long have I been gone from Dalton?_

"Dude, I didn't know you were coming!" He exclaimed, suddenly stopping as he seemed to take in my appearance for the first time. He frowned. "What the hell happened to you?"

Now, I hadn't seen myself in a mirror yet, but I knew what I must have looked like.

I had a large gash just above my eye, not quite deep enough to need stitches but nasty enough to need to have two thin strips of medical tape on it. There was also a large bruise forming at my jaw and a cut to the edge of my lip that left a sharp metallic taste in my mouth every time I ran my tongue over it.

I think the bleeding had just about stopped, but the cut was already annoying me to no end.

I'm sure there were many other things wrong too, but those were the most obvious at that time.

"Oh, um, my fault," Scott guiltily raised a hand.

Finn whipped around as his face crumpled in confusion at seeing a stranger in his house. "You beat up my brother?" He started to sound defensive, his eyes narrowing quickly.

Personally, I thought the expression looked hilarious on Finn; it was completely out of character and he looked more like he was squinting than glaring, but Scott on the other hand…

Scott looked taken aback, and, although he wouldn't have admitted to it, kinda scared. I suppose I don't blame him; Finn _is_ freakishly tall, but _come on_, Finn was over ten years younger than him. I thought Scott was supposed to be practically fearless.

"No, Finn, he-" I started to explain, but Finn seemed to catch on surprisingly quickly.

"Is he-?" …_A spy? _Already, Finn was practically bouncing with excitement.

I nodded. "This is Scott."

"That's so cool!"

Yes, Finn still had an obsession with spies. Despite knowing of every injury I had ever sustained from the job and almost all of the missions I had faced, the idea still excited him.

Suddenly a look of comprehension dawned on him and he looked panicked, as if he'd just remembered that he had an assignment due and not enough time to do it in.

"Crap. I didn't know, I didn't mean to- you have to believe that I wouldn't have… I'm so sorry." His eyes darted between the three of us, as if he wasn't quite sure who it was that he was apologizing to, but none of us had any idea what he was trying to say.

"Finn, what are you talking about?" Carole asked him coolly.

"I-"

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson." A horribly cheerful and definitely female voice greeted.

Everybody else in the room froze.

Finn shut his eyes tightly, Scott leant back in his chair to stare at the ceiling and I suddenly developed an immense interest in the kitchen tiles.

Carole recovered first. I was almost jealous of how in control she seemed to be about everything.

"Rachel, dear, I didn't know you were coming." She shot a look to Finn, who recoiled as though he'd been hit and shrugged apologetically.

Rachel. I knew that name from somewhere. Finn must have mentioned her before.

Rachel… who's Rachel?

I sat quietly, trying to rack my brain for any information that would remind me of who she was.

"Finn didn't tell me you had company." Rachel stated.

Why did she sound so annoying?

I mean, sure, from what she had said she sounded polite and nice enough, but there was something so irritating about her voice.

Maybe it was just me. Maybe it's because I don't spend much time around girls –as in, teenage girls- and I wasn't used to it.

Wait, _annoying…?_ Oh. _Oh._ _That _Rachel…

I thought they'd broken up again?

I finally chanced looking up and saw Finn's (current) girlfriend for the first time.

The very first thing I thought was: _what is she _wearing_?!_

Yes, I know, it's slightly harsh and prejudice and _who was I to judge anybody?_ but her outfit was so… There are no words to express how horrific and criminal that thing was –the world would benefit from it bursting into flames.

Just –the socks and the sweater with the owl on the front of it and- I shuddered just to think about it. Also, surely she must have been unnaturally small.

Anyone looks tiny compared to Finn but this girl was so –no. Not judging. I'm sure she's a lovely person.

Apparently, she was also entirely unaware to everyone's obvious discomfort to her presence.

"Finn, would you like to introduce us?" She prompted, although it sounded like more of a demand than a request.

"Not really." Finn admitted. "Hey, we had that –that thing, to be, uh, doing, so –why don't we –we should do that, yeah? Let's go-" He stuttered over an excuse. "Let's do that." He finally finished lamely, gesturing out of the kitchen vaguely.

"Finn,"

Now, again, I'm not judging, but she said his name warningly, as though threatening him to do what she wanted. -What's with that?! You can't order him around like he's your slave! Don't expect Finn to follow your orders and go wherever you want him to go, you-

Okay. So maybe I was being just a tiny bit judgmental and unreasonable.

"Sure." Finn amended, although he seemed nervous about the idea. "So this, this is Rachel –uh, my girlfriend," He added, when she looked at him strangely. "And Rach, this is- …this is,"

He glanced at me, silently pleading for help.

Kurt or Kyle- which one am I? The friend of whom she will have undoubtedly never heard or the… non-existent brother?

If he said Kurt, how would she react if she saw me again without the dyed hair, tan and green eyes? If Kyle, well, I don't even know how long I'm going to be Kyle. Shit, what if she asks how we met?

No matter what, he'd have to lie to his girlfriend, unless-

"Everyone calls me K." I said, much to Finn's relief. "I'm an old friend of Finn's. I've been out of town for a while but I ran into some trouble and ended up back in Lima so I thought I'd drop in to say hi."

Technically it wasn't even that much of a lie. Most of it was true.

Rachel seemed convinced, anyway.

Scott then simply introduced himself as my friend, saying that he'd wanted to meet the people that I spoke about so fondly.

As far as reasons go, it wasn't the best, but Rachel didn't question it.

It was only when Carole asked if Rachel was staying for dinner that I noticed how late it was getting. I still had a two hour drive back to Dalton and I was nowhere near my car.

Carole gave me a lift back to where I was parked and dropped off Scott at his cousin's house after refusing to let him drive anywhere with a concussion, even writing instructions for his cousin to follow about how to properly look after him in his condition.

She wasn't pleased about letting me drive myself back either but knew that I had to get to Dalton and I needed my car with me. Instead she settled on hugging me tightly and telling me to look after myself, but not to worry so much.

I told her the same thing.

I might live in a world full of lies, but one thing that I know is true? Carole Hudson is awesome.

**End Author's Note:** So, I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but I was awake for a whole eighteen hours yesterday and I still haven't really recovered enough to properly clean up and edit this, but I wanted to get it up to you today. Anyway, let me know what you think. I love reviews and it's great to know that/if you're enjoying this. Reviews always make me smile :)


	14. Perspective

**Author's Note:** Wow, has it really been that long since I updated already? I'm sorry, life has been a bit hectic recently but I'm going toParis on Sunday and really wanted to get this up before I leave. You hear that: _Paris!_

I have never left the UK before so this will be my first time abroad and my first time on a plane so understandably I'm really excited and looking forward to it. I'll only be gone for five days, but I seriously doubt that I'll have time to write anything while I'm away so it may be longer than a week again before I update, but it won't be as long as this wait was if I can help it.

Sorry again, but I hope you enjoy the next chapter of Keep Your Enemies Closer. Introducing, Chapter 14.

**14. Perspective**

By the time I'd arrived back at Dalton, I felt so miserable that I was seriously considering just turning back and giving up on everything. My ankle was killing me, I'd bitten my lip so much in anxiety that the cut had started bleeding again, my eyes were stinging and I had an awful migraine.

I sighed, checked my contact lenses in the mirror, quickly grabbed my glasses and forced myself out of my car –balancing myself on one foot as a precaution. You couldn't say that I hadn't learnt from past experience.

The walk (i.e. limp) that followed was, well, painful, as I'm sure you could imagine, but more so than that I think it was quite possibly the most awkward and humiliating moment of my entire life.

No, really.

You'd think that Dalton boys were sensible enough to not bother spreading rumors and listening to idle gossip, but no; in fact, I was later reliably informed that they are worse than most teenage girls.

I bet this would have never happened at Crawford.

Then again, those girls probably weren't in the presence of a spy.

The Dalton boys had been gossiping _so much_ in the space of only a few hours that from the second I entered the nearest building, _every_ _single_ _person_ that I passed stared at me –or gaped –or slowly backed away… actually, I think I even saw someone running from me.

I'm not scary! …Am I?

Okay, so, Dalton Academy is a fancy private boarding school mainly full of rich kids from distinguished families, but from the way that they'd reacted you'd think they'd never seen one of their fellow students returning from a fight before.

…_Oh_.

I felt absolutely mortified as I quietly shuffled my way through the crowds, my cheeks flushing embarrassingly, trying to remember the way to my dorm room without having to glimpse up and see the looks on their faces. Even so, I could practically feel their eyes burning into me and hear their judgmental opinions.

Just as I thought that I'd managed to get away, I passed a teacher on the last staircase and stopped nervously as I saw them come to a halt, waiting for them to yell or question me or _something_.

It didn't happen.

Instead, they simply took in my appearance critically, shook their head in disbelief and walked away.

Confused?

The teachers didn't know about what I did, or my assignment with Blaine, but they did know that there was something different about me, and they knew not to ask.

From what I'd heard, when arrangements were made for me to attend Dalton, there was a warning issued that none of the staff were to question any of my actions. When you get that kind of demand from people of unknown positions high up in the government, it would take an idiot to not do as they were told.

Unfortunately, it really wouldn't have looked great if the same thing had been said to everyone _attending_ the school, so there was really nothing that anybody could do to stop people from talking about me behind my back.

It felt weird. It was like I truly was back at school, back to the whispering and the disgusted looks. I pushed the sense of déjà vu to the back of my mind and convinced myself that this was different. No one here hated me, they just didn't understand me.

I was still New Kid, so I was bound to still be the topic of lots of conversations; I just seemed to keep making it worse for myself on top of that. In the short time that I'd been at Dalton, I'd become the only person that the 'resident loner' would talk to, I'd hardly spoken to anyone (unintentionally), and now this.

I couldn't say that I blamed anyone for being wary.

Even so, it wasn't greatest feeling to know that almost everyone in the school thought that I was crazy –or at the very least a total weirdo.

Strangely, my disgruntled mood didn't last for very long.

I think you can guess the person responsible for that already.

Originally, I'd been fully intending to drag myself to my room, take a Tylenol, collapse onto my bed and refuse to move until I eventually fell into unconsciousness. That all changed.

I hadn't _intended_ to listen in, honestly I hadn't, but the door was partially open and… Have you ever had that experience where you hear just one, simple little thing and it changes everything that you thought you knew? It could be one word, one sentence… one song?

At first, it was the sound of an acoustic guitar that confused me enough to make me stop in my tracks. I wasn't near the music room, and I'd overheard enough conversations to know that the Warblers were practicing downstairs so it couldn't be any of them, but from what I could tell in just those few seconds this person was _really_ good at playing the guitar.

-Ridiculously so.

Then he started singing, and _oh, my God…_

_Say, won't you stay?_

_We could talk about nothing at all,_

_We'll sit here and make up the words, _

_As we go along._

_The games, we could play,_

_Maybe silently write us a song,_

_Quietly shout from the roof,_

_That we don't belong_

I was frozen to the spot, staring towards the room that the sound was coming from as though I'd never heard anything so amazing in my entire life. It was like everything had stopped and the only thing that ever was, was here and now.

…Wow; that sounded cheesy.

I didn't recognize it, but the song was fairly slow –probably still a pop song, just not Top 40. It was, well, it was kind of beautiful actually.

_They told me maybe he's crazy a little like you,_

_Everyone said you were nothing but trouble and,_

_All that I know is that I've never been here before,_

_And no I'll never leave if it's alright with you,_

_Dreaming of oceans while jumping in puddles and,_

_All of my life I pretend you were there by the door,_

_I don't need to pretend anymore._

In the time it took for my feet to move of their own accord and place me directly in front of the door, I _finally_ realized who was singing.

Blaine.

_That_ was Blaine.

_Strange, oh so strange,_

_When it feels better being alone,_

_You accept there is nobody else _

_And set it in stone._

_And then you, came along,_

_Your reflection was so sad and strong,_

_You made me believe once again,_

_That I could belong_

As he launched back into the chorus I watched him in amazement through the small gap left by the mostly-closed door. This was the boy that everyone avoided. _This_ was the boy who chose to be alone because he didn't feel like he was good enough for anyone.

This was _Blaine_. I know, I'm sorry, I keep repeating myself.

I just couldn't believe it.

His singing was breathtaking, mesmerizing, stunning …but then, so was he.

He was turned away from me, his back to the door, but I could see how effortlessly his fingers glided over the guitar to make the different chords, and the way his posture seemed so much more confident when he was singing. This was Blaine in his element.

_And it hurts, to know,_

_There was somebody out there,_

_As strange and as beautiful,_

_As you,_

_If I'd known, sooner_

His voice softened as he began the chorus again, this time more quietly, putting every ounce of emotion into this song.

I suddenly understood how Blaine had managed to shield himself and hide away for so long. He didn't have to talk to people to let out pent up emotions; he could express himself through music.

But then, what was he singing about? And why hadn't he ever joined the Warblers?

_I don't need to pretend anymore._

Before I could confuse myself trying to overanalyze everything like I had the habit of doing, the song had finished and I'd pushed the door open further without even thinking about it, snapping out of my state of awed shock.

"I thought you said that you couldn't sing?" I challenged.

He dropped the guitar beside him with a start and practically threw himself off the bed in his haste to get up. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, I had an armful of Blaine as he hugged me furiously. The force of it almost knocked me backwards through the open doorway but I just about managed to right myself on my already unsteady ankle.

"Hey, ouch, okay," I stammered. I don't know what kind of reaction I'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

Blaine pulled away slightly at the hiss of pain that I made instinctively, although still holding me at arm's length. His eyes widened partly upon taking in my appearance and he looked almost angry suddenly –but not at me.

"What the fuck happened to you?!" He demanded furiously, looking fiercely protective of me.

As always, it's amazing how quickly an atmosphere can change.

I recoiled slightly at hearing him swear, but I only got out a stuttered "I-" before he was talking again.

"It doesn't matter." He corrected, shaking his head. "But don't you ever, _ever, _do that to me again." He pleaded, suddenly looking vulnerable and scared, his voice cracking. I hated that it was me that had done that to him.

"Do you have any idea how terrified I was?" He choked. "Everyone was talking about how you'd just suddenly raced out of class and there were all these rumors and everyone was staring at me and –_shit_. I kept thinking up all these awful scenarios in my head and then _I thought you were dead, _K. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"_B,"_ I sighed, shutting the door behind me blindly for fear that someone would walk past and this would start a completely different type of rumor.

"I know, I'm sorry; I'm being pathetic," He exhaled, rubbing at his eyes as though checking for the assurance that he wasn't crying. "I just-" He stopped himself, shaking his head again, and looked me straight in the eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine." I said smoothly, but apparently not all that convincingly. Blaine just looked at me. "Oh. You mean-" I paused and considered it for a short minute. "I'm just a bit beaten and bruised, I'll be okay."

Honestly, I felt awful right at that moment –and not just because of my physical injuries. Blaine had been worrying about me; he'd admitted that he was scared of losing me. Taken out of context, that would have been wonderful to hear, but now? Well, it wasn't great for my already overwhelming amount of guilt, put it that way.

"What happened to you?" Blaine asked gently, reaching out a hand and brushing the pad of his thumb softly along the already forming bruise to my jaw, his hand resting under my chin.

My skin burned where he was touching me and I felt like my heart was about to pound out of my chest.

Not good.

"Oh, I-" There was something about the way he was looking at me that made me forget how to think. "There was a huge bust-up and misunderstanding so I had to step in to help Scott." I explained simply. "You should see the other guy." I joked lightly.

Blaine's hand dropped in surprise. "Scott's a spy?!"

I was about to reply with a sarcastic '_that's what you took from this?!' _when what I'd just said finally registered in my mind, and the impact of it.

I'm pretty sure my face mirrored his. "Oh shit." I breathed, squeezing my eyes tightly shut for a split second. "No, no he's not. You didn't hear that –especially not from me."

_Damn stupid incredible charming handsome Blaine and his stupid ways of making me lose my composure._

"Right," Blaine agreed. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He tried to disguise his amused smirk by turning to sit down, but I saw it anyway.

"What exactly is so funny?" I asked, aiming for demanding but my voice coming out more as drained.

"Nothing, nothing," Blaine said unconvincingly. "It's just –I find it really difficult to talk seriously about you –I mean, as in, spies, -_spy_ you, not- I mean I can talk about _you_ obviously, not that I-." He successfully stopped himself from rambling and corrected himself. "I guess laughing is just my way of dealing with it." He said honestly, shrugging.

"You're not dealing with it? Why didn't you say anything?" I said quickly, with increasing concern.

_Oh God, that's why he was worrying, isn't it? It's because he knows._

If Blaine was struggling with the knowledge that I was a spy then maybe I _should_ leave. One day he'd thank me for it. He'd get to finish school, grow up, live a great life and forget all about me. It would have been for the best, right?

Except, if that was true, then why was that thought so painful?

Blaine rolled his eyes. "That's not what I said and you know it. Stop twisting my words –and overanalyzing everything, and overthinking. You do that a lot, you know?"

"Well, yeah, it's probably my biggest fault. I just didn't realize that everyone else noticed it too."

_Was I really that obvious? I-_

"For goodness sake just sit down before you hurt yourself." Blaine grinned playfully, catching hold of my wrist and gently tugging on it to make me sit beside him, immediately erasing all thoughts of me leaving. "I still think you're practically flawless, and faults make people more interesting anyway."

It didn't even register in my mind that he'd just called me "_practically flawless_".

"You just contradicted yourself. How can someone be both flawless and faulted?"

"Simple; you can be KH." He said brightly.

_Dork._

He frowned. "Yeah, that would sound a lot better if I actually knew your name."

"Just use Kyle Hudson." I offered. I knew that it wasn't the same, but I couldn't offer any better.

"I can't." Blaine said automatically, almost whining. "Not when I know that it's fake. I either use your initials or I start inventing weird nicknames."

"Sorry," I shrugged apologetically. "Anyway, you've completely changed the subject. I asked you a question and you still haven't answered."

"Did you?"

"You said that you don't sing." I pointed out.

"I said I didn't, I didn't say that I couldn't." Blaine replied intelligently.

"You sing like _that_ and you don't sing often? _Why_ aren't you in the Warblers?"

Blaine's smile faltered only slightly as he replied. "It's, uh… it's complicated."

"Oh really?" I grinned. "You're talking to a teenage spy using a false identity and decide to use the line _it's complicated?_"

Blaine laughed.

It felt amazing that I could joke about something as serious as that.

"Hey, don't go pretending that there are things you don't talk about either." Blaine challenged. "I still don't know what you're doing at Dalton, for one thing."

Just as I was undoubtedly about to start panicking, he continued.

"I'm not going to ask, either."

"You're not?" I checked, even though I was fairly certain that I already knew the answer.

Blaine shook his head. "No, I'm not. I know that there are things that you can't tell me, but even without that I wouldn't force you into saying things that you're not comfortable with; just like I know you wouldn't do that to me."

I smiled gratefully, but it wasn't until a little while later that those words really hit me.

I was still in Blaine's room; we were watching a movie before it came to curfew and I'd need to return to my own dorm, when my phone starting ringing.

Sometimes I hate my phone and its unfortunate timing, but as soon as I saw the name I realized that I was going to have to answer it.

I glanced at Blaine apologetically before quickly accepting the phone call and holding the device to my ear.

"Hi Matt," I noticed the mistake as soon as I'd made it and rushed to correct it, stuttering in my haste. "I mean- Mr. - um, Sir. …Hello Sir."

Blaine looked confused, and I slowly mouthed the words 'my boss' to him, hoping that he'd understand. He nodded his comprehension, glancing back to the screen where he'd already placed the DVD on mute, trying to convince himself not to listen to my side of the conversation.

He failed.

"'_Matt'?" _A smug voice rang down my speaker.

"I didn't intend to-"

"_That's not important." _Mr. Moore interrupted coolly. _"There are worse things that you could have called me and frankly there are more important things for us to discuss."_

"Right, but –maybe we could do this some other time," I posed the sentence as a request, risking a subtle glance at Blaine as I spoke. "I'm a bit-"

"_No."_ He said bluntly.

…_Busy._

Well, at least he was being honest.

"_I need to talk to you about today's events. I've already spoken to Agent Reed and I just-"_

"That wasn't his fault!" I defended, assuming the worst. "He-"

"_-wanted to congratulate you on your actions." _Mr. Moore finished._ "I'd appreciate if you didn't interrupt while I'm talking to you."_

I faltered for a brief second before replying. "You wanted to what?" I asked in disbelief.

"_Yes, well, while I don't agree with you running off and putting yourself in danger like that, it was a very courageous thing to do, and I'm sure that Reed is thankful for your help in handling the situation. I'm in no way encouraging you to do this again, but it was a very noble thing to do –risking everything like that just to help someone in distress."_

It almost sounded as if he cared about me.

"I –thank you, Sir. So, does this mean that Scott isn't in trouble?"

"_Of course he isn't," _He assured, _"Everyone makes mistakes and it isn't as if he's jeopardized anything. You managed to sort out the situation by yourselves –even if it wasn't the most conventional method." _I guiltily glanced down at my ankle. _ "I'm sure Reed has suffered enough already and he'll learn from this. Besides, he called as soon as he could to explain the situation and I can respect him for that. He didn't try to take the cowardly way out."_

"That's good." I mused.

"_However, this wasn't actually the only reason that I wanted to call you."_

Ah, the inevitable ulterior motive. There always is one.

"Yes, Sir?" I prompted.

"_I need to ask about your current assignment with –what was that boy's name again? Blake?"_

"B-" I almost said it. It was right there, on the tip of my tongue. I was just about to correct Mr. Moore and say Blaine. Luckily I managed to stop myself just in time.

Blaine was _in the room._ Christ, this _was_ his room, and it was _so_ idiotically stupid to be talking about him _in front of him_ for this precise reason.

I mean, what would I have done? How could I possibly explain using his name when in a, seemingly serious, conversation with a high ranking secret agent? That would have been an awkward situation to try and lie my way out of.

Fortunately, I'd caught myself, and I did what anyone would've done in my position. I covered the word with a cough.

"_Are you alright?"_

Mr. Moore voiced the words at the exact same time that Blaine mouthed them to me, and had the circumstances been different it would have almost been funny.

"Yeah," I answered, not quite sure who it was aimed at, but making sure that I broke eye contact with Blaine as I continued with, "You were saying?"

"_Oh, of course, I need to know how far you've gotten with the boy."_

_How far I-?_

I choked, only really succeeding in alarming Blaine even further, and gasping out something about that being inappropriate, trying not to blush when Blaine moved and started rubbing calming circles into my back.

It took Mr. Moore a little while to figure out the double meaning of what he'd just said.

"_I didn't mean –of course any relationships that you have are entirely your own business, I was asking if you'd gotten any information yet. You've been at Dalton for quite some time now and-"_

"If I find anything, you'll be the first to know." I said smoothly. "Just- wait, sorry, can you just back up a little bit?" I asked, partly in shock, not even caring that I'd already forgotten how much 'Matt' disliked to be interrupted, despite how much _he_ interrupted _me_.

"_Hmmm?"_

"That –what you were saying, just then? Could you repeat that please?"

"_About relationships?" _He checked, sounding suspicious. I made an affirmative noise. _"I'm not quite sure what you expect me to say."_

"Well, what did you mean by that?"

"_Obviously, I mean to say that whatever happens between you in your private life is nothing to do with me and you'd be free to do whatever you so wished. Legally, I wouldn't be allowed to stop you from dating anyone. That part is entirely up to you."_

"So," This was all news to me, and I was going to take advantage of my boss being cooperative. "Technically, if I wanted to-"

"_If you're referring to Blaine, then yes, I can't see a reason why not. However, there would be conditions."_

"Such as?" I could still tell that Blaine was watching me, no doubt confused, and I was making sure that I was careful with what I said, but this was interesting. I needed to hear this, to know if there ever was a chance.

I didn't even care that I was basically confirming my feelings to my employer. I could worry about that later.

"_Naturally, if it turned out that he was in any way involved in his father's actions, there would be cause to interfere. Then there's always the issue of your work, and not being able to tell him," _Too late for that one. "_But many of our agents have managed to work around that and still maintain happy relationships."_

"Is that all?" I checked, aware that I was beaming uncontrollably.

"_I suppose so, but there is still your assignment to take into account; if that ends badly then none of the rest of this will matter anyhow. You really do need to start getting results soon, Kurt."_

"I will." I promised, not at all comfortable with the prospect, but I knew that if I ignored this any longer then I'd be pulled out of Dalton and given a new mission regardless of anything else.

When the call ended, Blaine was still there beside me, asking if everything was okay.

I just smiled. "It is now."

Maybe there was hope after all.

**End Author's Note:** So, still hope for Klaine, but what do you reckon will happen next? Can Kurt accept his feelings and does Blaine have any in return? What will happen when Blaine finds out what Kurt was assigned to do? Who knows? (I know I do.)

I'll leave you to your own speculations, you'll find out eventually. Don't forget to drop a review on your way out. :D

Oh, and the song used is _Pretend_ by Scott Porter and the Glory Dogs. I found it accidently one day last year when I was flicking through channels and _Bandslam_ was on. Admittedly, it's not the greatest film ever, but I love the song. Check it out if you want to know how it's sung. It's pretty easy to find on YouTube.


	15. Of Strangeness and Closets

**Author's Note:** Hello.

Sorry that I took I long, I was a little bit preoccupied with Paris (which was awesome) and my laptop randomly kept cutting off (which was not so awesome), but I got this chapter up as soon as I could. It's short, but I'll try and make it up next chapter if I can. After all, there is going to be something big heading your way in the near future. Just to let you know. ;)

Enjoy Chapter 15!

**15. Of Strangeness and Closets**

The dim light above my head flickered as I wondered, not for the first time, how it was that I'd ended up here in the first place.

Where was 'here', exactly? Well, judging by the size of the space and the various cleaning products shelved up, I'd say it was a maintenance closet.

You hear that?! A closet: the most unimaginative and ironic space for me to ever be trapped in. I wasn't sure if this was some kind of joke or strange new kid initiation or something, but whatever it was, I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all.

I remembered leaving class and feeling like I was being followed… after that all the memories blurred into a haze of confusion. Yet, despite my uncertainty about how the events had come to pass, here I was. Here, cornered in a confined space with my only possible exit blocked by two Dalton Academy pupils whom I had never before met, sporting stupidly serious facial expressions.

This was, hands down, the oddest experience of my life –which was saying something. I'd encountered a lot of peculiar situations, but never one quite like this.

To be honest, I still wasn't certain that this was actually happening. I couldn't make it all add up. I mean, it hadn't been long since I'd managed to escape a room full of at least a hundred alcoholics and junkies all trying to cause me serious injury, but I hadn't been able to get away from two harmless private school boys who weren't so much as threatening me? That didn't sound right at all.

"Hello." One of them said suddenly, startling me slightly.

"Hi." I replied instantly, immediately becoming unsure as to why I'd felt the need to say anything anyway.

"You're Kyle Hudson," He continued, not questioning, but using this as a statement.

I nodded slowly. "How did-?" I stopped myself as soon as I started, realizing a fraction too late that I already the answer. Of course they knew who I was; I was the new kid.

"Everyone knows who you are." The second confirmed, guessing what I had previously been about to say. "You're the guy who saved Blaine Anderson."

_Saved?_

"Blaine? That's what this is about?" If anything, my confusion had deepened.

"What else was it going to be?" The earlier persona had dropped as this was said in an obvious and almost amused manner.

"I don't know. What are the usual topics up for discussion when forced inside a maintenance closet?" I responded sarcastically.

"Sorry about that, it's just hard to find someplace around here where you know your conversation is going to be private, and inviting you to our dorm room would have somewhat killed the mystery and suspense. Also, seeing as we've never met before, it would also have been pretty creepy."

…There really wasn't anything to say to that, was there?

"Anyway, we wanted to speak to you."

That's good. It's nice to know that their only intention hadn't been to act intimidatingly and confuse me –despite the fact that they'd done both of these things already.

"…On behalf of the student body?" I supposed, only half joking.

"On behalf of the Warblers," They corrected.

_The Warblers?_

"But I already spoke to-" Something that Nick and Jeff said to me about Blaine in our conversation in the library suddenly came to mind _…he started to become more comfortable around everyone –especially Wes and David… _"You're Wes and David." I concluded after a brief pause.

"How did _you_ know that?"

"Who have you been speaking to?"

They both sounded instantly suspicious, eyes narrowing as one of them folded their arms over their chest.

Everyone _loves_ to be dramatic, don't they?

"Nick and Jeff," I answered quietly, unsure why I sounded so nervous –I was _a spy_, for Christ's sake!- but deciding that it was logical to not want to upset anybody when locked inside a room and outnumbered.

"Oh _God,_" was the instant reaction. "Don't listen to anything they told you –it's all lies!"

"The thing with the kazoo was _one_ time!"

"I don't have an obsession with my gavel!"

"That kiss was a dare –and there was no enjoyment involved!"

"…We agreed _never_ to speak of that again."

They stopped, sighed and looked me straight in the eyes.

"What did they say about us?"

"Um," I faltered, more than a little shocked at their outburst. "Nothing like that, just that you used to be close friends with Blaine; I wasn't even sure that you really knew them."

"Oh." Obviously that wasn't what they were expecting. "Well, of course we know them: they're in the Warblers." Apparently that was a reasonable explanation.

"We're the council members –along with Thad, but you don't know him, right?" I shook my head. "Also," He lowered his voice. "The thing about Wes' gavel was actually true; he _is_ obsessed."

"Hey!" His friend –Wes, I corrected mentally- protested.

"Sorry dude, but I should know; I'm the one that lives with you." The boy that I now assumed to be David turned back and smiled, noticing that they'd never properly introduced themselves. "David Thompson and Wesley Montgomery; pleased to meet you."

They didn't offer a handshake or anything –not that I particularly expected them too, and there was no point in me saying my (fake) name when they already knew it, so we were left standing there awkwardly, not really sure of what to say or do next.

The silence made me aware of the shelf pressing hard against my back as I looked across the small distance between us. It was probably a meter maximum, and Wes and David were leaning heavily against the wall and door too.

It wasn't that we were trying to get as far away from each other as possible, despite how it may have seemed; more we were sticking to our own personal space. This was the first time we'd spoken, and there was no need to make this anymore awkward then it already was; especially now.

It was a good job I wasn't claustrophobic.

I cleared my throat a little, shifting uncomfortably on my feet. "You were saying something about me being the one who saved Blaine?" I prompted.

"Right, yeah," Wes shrugged. "That's how everyone refers to you."

"I wasn't aware that he'd ever needed saving."

"Everyone needs saving sometimes; they just don't always realize it." David told me. "With Blaine, he needed saving from himself. He was miserable, and he refused to let anybody in and help him –until you."

This wasn't dissimilar to what Nick and Jeff had told me.

"But then, what happened to make Blaine shut himself away in the first place?" I asked carefully.

"We don't know." Wes answered, sincerity shining through. "No one's ever gotten close enough to find out.

"The last time he ever spoke to us he'd been getting ready to go home for the weekend. He seemed fine, just a bit surprised."

"Surprised?"

"Yeah," David agreed. "He'd been at Dalton for a few months by that point and it was the first time his dad had ever so much as texted him. Suddenly Blaine got a random phone call saying that his dad wanted to see him as soon as possible.

"Honestly, he's got a sucky father if you ask me, but I wouldn't know much about it; Blaine hardly ever spoke about him. All we know is that they don't talk much and Blaine's dad never really cared about him."

Wes nodded his approval to this synopsis.

"That's awful." I commented. "And he hasn't confided in anyone about what happened?"

They shook their heads. "He's still a mystery. We'd half been hoping that he'd spoken to you."

"He hasn't," I admitted, "At least, not about that. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about then?" If so, I didn't know any more than what they'd just told me, other than that he didn't like thinking about it, therefore Blaine was likely to stay a mystery for a while longer.

"No, no," Wes clarified. "We wouldn't want to pry. It's Blaine's business and as much as we'd like to be able to help him at least he's got you now. We just wanted to meet you and make sure that you knew how important you are to him."

"I know it looks like we've all been avoiding him, but it's not like that at all. At first, we were just trying to respect his wishes: giving him the time alone that he wanted, but then… I guess we just couldn't figure out how to approach him again."

"So instead of risking talking to Blaine again and attempting to support him, you let him spend all his time alone thinking that nobody cared about him and the entire school viewed him as an outsider?" I checked, aware that I sounded at least partially blunt and accusing. I just needed to understand this.

Wes looked down at the floor, while David focused on a spot above and behind my head, both appearing guilty. They briefly glanced at each other before turning back to me.

"It's not something that we're proud of, but I guess that's what it must have seemed like. We were just trying to do right by him. …I guess we were pretty sucky friends too, huh?"

"You care about him. You just didn't know how to show it."

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"Hey! K, wait up!"

I turned to see Blaine rushing to catch up with me.

"Where have you been?" He asked as soon as he reached my side. "I've been looking for you forever."

"Oh, maintenance closet," I answered, shrugging offhandedly.

"You were… in a closet?" Blaine repeated slowly, as if testing to see that he'd heard me properly.

"Yes." I answered immediately. "_A_ closet, not _the _closet, I'm not-" I cut myself off, pausing for a second. "Do people here know that I'm gay?"

It wasn't as if I'd hidden the fact, but I hadn't exactly paraded it around either.

"I doubt it," Blaine answered eventually, still looking confused. "_I_ didn't know until you told me, so-"

"I'm gay," I said loudly, raising my voice so that it wasn't just Blaine that could hear me. "Just, to clear any confusion and give you guys something to gossip about."

Blaine grabbed hold of my upper arm and led me a few paces into a smaller corridor with hardly any people around. "Are you feeling alright?" He asked seriously, watching me like I had an extra eye growing out of my head.

"I'm fine, why do you ask?" By now my voice had returned to its normal volume.

"Well, you did just randomly announce your sexuality to about a dozen students."

I laughed. "Yeah, I did, didn't I? It's weird; I've never had to come out before."

Blaine looked at me strangely and gently raised the back of his hand to my forehead. "… Are you drugged –ill? You do feel warm."

I stepped back to let his hand drop and looked at him directly. "I'm fine."

"Really?" He sounded doubtful. "That's what you said after the last time you disappeared, and you were lying."

"Then you're going to have to trust me this time. I think I'm just in a weird mood. Maybe I'm deprived or something."

"_Deprived_?" It didn't look like I was doing a very good job of convincing Blaine of my sanity.

"Yeah, you know? Like sleep deprivation or something. Maybe oxygen deprivation, if that's a thing. It sounds like it could be… It _was_ getting suffocating inside that closet…"

I didn't even realize how insane I must have been sounding. The look on Blaine's face should have been a clue.

"Right," There was an implied question mark in Blaine's tone. "Can we go back to that closet thing, just for a minute? You still haven't explained why you were in there in the first place."

"I don't really know," I confessed, "-It's a long story."

"Maybe you could shorten it?"

"I was talking to your friends." I said simply, shrugging.

"And now you're _definitely_ crazy. I don't have friends; I've just got one."

I smiled. "I wouldn't be so sure."

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"Have you been lying to me?"

It had been a few hours since my outburst of craziness, and I had calmed down considerably in that amount of time. I had just gone to get some coffee –leaving Blaine alone in my dorm room for all of three minutes- when I heard this.

"No?" I said unsurely, handing Blaine his cup and sitting down in my desk chair.

"Are you absolutely positive about that?" Blaine asked, grinning as he turned more to face me. "Because your phone says otherwise,"

I was lost. There was no way he was talking about what I thought he was talking about, because if he was then I doubt he'd be smiling. Also, my phone had a passcode, and unless Blaine was such a genius that he'd figured out my birthday…

"Care to elaborate?" I requested.

"I quote: _Hey Bro, call me when you get this, I need to talk to you."_

I shook my head to show that I still had no idea what Blaine was talking about. "And?"

"It's signed Finn Hudson."

Oh. _Ohh…_

Blaine continued. "Finn Hudson is apparently your brother and yet you claim that your name isn't actually Kyle _Hudson_. Were you double bluffing?" I have to say, he was looking pretty smug.

I smirked. "Nice try, but no. Finn is just a close friend who I view as my brother, there's no biological relation. It's genuinely just a coincidence that I was assigned a surname coinciding with his. Although I'd prefer if you didn't stalk my messages."

He handed me back my phone, looking genuinely disappointed.

"It was worth a try," Blaine commented. "And in my defense, I didn't purposely read it, it was just there."

"That happens to you a lot, doesn't it?" I said sarcastically. "I do recall the same thing happening with a text I received from Jamie."

"Sorry," He said lamely.

"You don't need to apologize, Blaine. You're just curious."

"I am." He agreed enthusiastically. "I _need_to know. The fact that I can't just makes me more determined."

"Can't help you there," I grinned.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Torturing me like this?" Blaine accused.

"It is not _torture,_" I laughed. "Don't be so dramatic; I've had enough of that already from Wes and David."

"So _that's _who shut you inside a closet. What were you talking about?"

"Who do you think?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Me?" Blaine guessed. "I didn't think they cared anymore."

"Of course they do, how could they not? They may not necessarily show it, but that doesn't mean that it's not there."

"You think so?" He asked skeptically.

"I know so."

**End Author's Note:** So, it feels like a filler, but I hope that's okay. I just wanted to get up an update now so that you didn't have to wait any longer. Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought, thanks!

(You know, since the mention of the reference to Doctor Who in the first chapter, no one seems to have noticed any of the others. Hmmm. There are a lot of random and assorted references hidden throughout, and not all of them disguised as quotes. I wonder if any of you have spotted them…)


	16. Doing The Right Thing

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone! …I guess I don't really have a lot to say, other than I hope you enjoy Chapter 16. If I'm allowed to say that I like my own work, I like the end of this one. You'll see why.

**16. Doing The Right Thing**

"_So what do you think I should do?"_

"…Uh," If there was ever a time that I had felt absolutely clueless, it would be now.

"Kurt!" He whined. "_You're _supposed_ to be helping me. I thought you were great at advice?"_

"You're joking, aren't you?" I laughed. "I'm awful at advice; I hardly ever even take my own."

"_But I-"_

"Finn, I'm not exactly an expert on people –far from it, in fact. Look, I've spent the last four years with only five contacts on my phone and I've only just started high school, at an _all_ _boys'_ private school, no less. I honestly can't understand why you're calling me for my opinion on your _girlfriend issues_."

At this point, my door opened slightly and Blaine appeared, peering around the wood but stopping as soon as he saw me on the phone. 'Sorry.' He mouthed, motioning that he could come back later.

"No, it's okay, come in, I won't be long."

"_Who are you talking to?" _Finn's voice came from my phone.

"Blaine's here," I answered. "Can I call you back later?"

Blaine shook his head, gesturing that I didn't have to do that.

"_But I need you." _Finn protested, not directly saying no but making it obvious that he wasn't happy with the idea.

"Finn," I sighed. "What do you expect me to say? I know _nothing_ about girls."

Blaine raised an eyebrow in interest as he moved to sit on the end of my bed.

"_Sure you do."_

"No, I don't. The only _females_ that I regularly speak to are Jamie and your mom, Finn. I don't think I've _ever_ spoken to teenage girl other than during the incident at your house and maybe one of the baristas at the Lima Bean."

"…_Really?"_

"Yes." I clarified. "You'd be better off talking to Carole."

"_I don't want to talk about my _girlfriend_ with my _mom_. That's just awkward."_

"Then talk to one of your football friends or something." I offered.

"_Dude, I wish I could, but I can't. They'd never take me seriously. Besides, all of this is your fault; you're obliged to help me fix it."_

"I think you mean obligated… Sorry but, how exactly is this all _my _fault –whatever '_this'_ is? –And don't call me' dude'!" I added, when I realized what he'd said.

-Funny how I correct that but not the use of my real name.

Blaine looked at me with a mock horrified 'what did you _do_?' expression. I smiled involuntarily and he grinned back.

I was so screwed.

"_Have you not listened to a word I've been saying?" _Finn asked, exasperated.

I deliberated saying no. "I heard it, I'm just not sure that I understand."

"_It's Rachel." _He repeated. _"Ever since she saw you at my house she hasn't stop asking me about you and I don't know what to do to make her shut up!"_

"Me?" I asked, frowning. "Why is she asking about me?"

"_She wants to know who you are." _Finn answered. _"She keeps questioning why she's never heard about you if we're such close friends and it's all _'how long have you known him?' _and _'where does he live?' _and _'how often do you see him?' _and _'what was his name again?' _and I don't know how to answer! You _have_ to help me."_

Oh.

"Why don't you try telling the truth?" I suggested.

"_Think about it. If I tell her your name is Kyle, what happens if she ever sees you as Kurt? If her tell her your name is Kurt, what happens when you suddenly lose the glasses and change you fashion sense, hair color and eye color? _

"_K, you're both huge parts of my life and it's highly likely that you'll end up meeting again, even if it is accidently. …I don't wanna lie to my girlfriend, but at the same time I don't wanna have to hide you from my friends."_

"Shit," I breathed. "I'm really sorry, Finn. I didn't mean to put you in that kind of situation."

Blaine frowned.

"_I know, and I don't blame you for it, but what do you think I should do?"_

"How," I hesitated, glancing quickly at Blaine. "How long do you think you can avoid telling her my name?"

"_For as long as you need me to."_

I took a deep breath. "Two weeks."

"_What?"_

"Give me two weeks, and I'll meet her –officially. As me," I practically whispered the last part, but Blaine heard me never-the-less.

"_What about Dalton?" _Finn challenged, clearly surprised. _"What about _Blaine_? You can't just turn your back on all of that. I won't let you ruin everything you have there just for the sake of saving my relationship with my girlfriend. That's not fair on anybody."_

When did Finn get so smart?

"I know, but it's not just that." I told him, increasingly aware of Blaine watching me with a kicked-puppy expression that damn near broke my heart. "My boss is already threatening to pull me out of Dalton if I don't get any results soon, and we always knew that this wasn't going to be permanent."

Finn knew (on some level so did I) that this was said more for Blaine than anybody else. He muttered a thank you and disconnected the call, leaving me to face my own problems.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question, but Blaine still sounded disbelieving and broken.

I flinched, and _oh,_ there was that stab of guilt again. "I think so."

For a moment there was a tense silence. I stared down at the phone still in my hand as if it could tell me what to do and fix everything. -I certainly didn't have any answers.

"I don't want you to go."

I looked up, finally meeting Blaine's eyes and saw that tears were threatening to fall.

"Hey, no," I said softly, moving closer and wondering what I was supposed to do in order to comfort him. "Please don't get upset. If you cry, I'll cry, and if I really only have two weeks left with you then I don't want to spend them being miserable."

"Sorry," He mumbled, suddenly reaching out and hugging me tightly, almost as if he was afraid to let go. "I-" He stopped and let out a shaky breath. "You're my best friend."

"And you're mine," I whispered back, pressing a quick kiss to the side of his head.

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

After an awkward and much more tear-filled conversation about my leaving, Blaine and I agreed not to dwell on the inevitable and to simply not talk about it. It wasn't the greatest solution, in retrospect, but what good was it to be unhappy about something out of your control?

I texted Mr. Moore, informing him that I planned to leave in two weeks, whether I had completed my assignment or not, but leaving out my reasons behind the decision. Whilst I may not have been intending to tell Rachel that I was a spy, I didn't expect my boss to understand, and I didn't see the need to explain it to him. Fortunately, it seemed that I didn't need to. He never did appear to question my decisions so long as he was getting what he wanted.

_Okay,_ he replied, cryptically. I stared down at the four letters illuminating the screen for far longer than I care to admit, trying to find some kind of hidden code or meaning behind the message.

_Okay? _What was that supposed to mean? Was he relieved that I was being cooperative about leaving Dalton and glad that he no longer had to pay tuition, or was he using the word to mask his growing disappointment for my incapability to complete an assignment?

I sat there overthinking for so long that eventually Blaine threw a pillow at my head, told me that my phone didn't hold the secrets of the universe, then went on to remind me that I had a History project due.

It was weird, acting as if everything was normal, but just because we didn't mention it didn't mean that I didn't think about it –constantly.

_God_, I was going to miss him.

In some ways, accepting this assignment was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me because it brought Blaine into my life. Blaine: who was smart and funny and charming and handsome and amazing and who gave me this fluttery feeling in my chest whenever he looked at me.

But then I looked at it from the other perspective, and I hated that I'd ever agreed to do this. Because I was doomed to walk away from this, and I doubted that I'd ever see Blaine again after these few weeks –and that thought killed me.

What if it had been different? What if I wasn't a spy, and I wasn't working undercover? What if his dad wasn't being investigated? What if we were just Kurt and Blaine?

Would be still have met? Would we have been totally different people? Would we even have been friends?

I voiced these thoughts to Jamie when she called me one night, and she firmly ordered me to stop torturing myself with what ifs. She said that she was sorry that things were happening like this, and that if she could anything to help me she would, but it looked like I was just going to have to grow to accept that there was nothing I could do.

Then she announced that it was better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all.

_-Love?_ Did I _love_ Blaine? I wasn't sure. I knew that I had feelings for him, but I wasn't clear on the extent. Honestly, it was so painful to think about that I tried to ignore it –tried being the operative word. Blaine was my best friend, and in a couple weeks he wouldn't even be that, so I had to make every second count.

"K!" Blaine laughed as I dragged him through the corridors of Dalton. "Slow down!"

"What's the problem?" I beamed, emphasizing the words with a squeeze to his hand. "Can't keep up?"

He quickly stepped up to match my pace, our joined hands now swinging more comfortably between us, accepting the challenge. "What's the hurry, anyway?"

"Maybe I just want to travel slightly faster than a snail's pace," I teased. "Besides, my ankle is finally returning to normal, I may as well make the most of it while it lasts."

All of my injuries visibly appeared to be getting better, actually. The cut to my lip had gone, the bruise at my jaw was fading, and the gash on my forehead was now little more than a thin, barely visible scar. It just reflected how much time I must have spent on this assignment by now, and I still knew close to nothing about Mark Harris.

"Well if you're not careful you're going to hurt yourself again." Blaine warned, "Do you even know where we're going?"

"Of course I do," I answered sincerely, "What, you think I'm just leading you down random corridors with the hope that we'll finally get somewhere interesting? I think I've been here long enough to figure out the way around by now."

"Okay, sure, I believe you." Blaine said, sounding like he did anything but.

"Skeptical much?"

"No, I trust you, I just… I'm a little lost." He admitted.

I laughed. "The new kid's showing you places of your own school that you never knew existed. How's that feel?"

"I hardly think you qualify as the new kid anymore." Blaine defended, blushing slightly.

I shrugged. "No one else has shown up and attempted to take the title from me, so I'm keeping it."

"We can agree to disagree, though you're probably not qualified for the title of tour guide, either." Blaine added, nudging my shoulder playfully.

I rolled my eyes. "We'll see about that."

_A couple of minutes later…_

"This would be the part where I say 'I told you so'. All apologies welcome, I accept gifts." I smirked.

"We're in the music room." Blaine stated, looking confused.

Glancing around the array of musical instruments around us, most prominently a large black piano in the center of the room, and the large selection of CDs and sheet music shelved up, I raised an eyebrow.

"Excellent observation," I praised sarcastically.

"No, I just-" He shook his head, smiling. "That was the strangest shortcut I have ever been on."

"Yeah, well," I rubbed at the back of my neck sheepishly, "It was more of a detour. At least you got to see the scenic route. Also, it added mystery, didn't it? We all know you're notorious for it."

"So are you." He pointed out.

…_Fair point._

Blaine continued. "So are you going to tell me what we're doing here?"

I took care to sound as condescending as possible. "Right now, we're _talking_."

"Let me rephrase that: why did you bring me here?"

"You're going to sing." I said nonchalantly, leaning back against the piano to watch his reaction.

"Am I? Why?"

"Why should you need a reason?" I countered. "Blaine, you use music as a way of expressing your feelings, but how about, just this once, you try a little spontaneity and sing just for the sake of it?" It also didn't hurt that I knew Blaine was an amazing singer and I'd love to be able to listen to him again.

"Couldn't I have just done that in my dorm room?"

I paused for a moment, and Blaine chuckled. "Take that as a yes then, shall I?"

"Give me a minute; I'm trying to think of a valid excuse."

"So you admit that it'd be an excuse?"

"Reason- I meant reason." I said quickly.

I went silent again, and he started mocking me with forced impatience: huffing in exasperation, checking the time and tapping his foot.

Finally, I thought of something. "Your dorm room's initial purpose is to serve as a living space, whereas the music room's use in in its name, and clearly involves singing. To disregard the music room in favor of laziness and familiarity is thus denying its purpose and…"

Blaine, who looked impressed at my argument and vocabulary up until this point, asked: "And what?"

"No, I have no idea where I'm supposed to be going with this. It's a music room, it's there for music; you may as well use it to sing in. Plus, your room doesn't have a piano."

"Well, what do you want me to sing?" He asked, walking slowly around to the other side of the piano and moving to the sit on the stool.

Huh. I didn't even know that he played.

"It's not up to me." I answered softly, turning and resting my arms on the piano so that I could see him better. "Just choose whatever song comes to mind first."

I was actually surprised that I'd succeeded in convincing him so easily, especially with such a weak explanation, but I didn't question it.

He looked at me for a short while before lifting his hands to the keys, hovering over them for a moment as he paused for thought. "I haven't played the piano for a while," He informed me. "So it probably won't sound very good. It would probably be better with a backing track, actually but-"

"I'm sure it'll sound great, B."

He nodded and began to play, his concentration settled firmly on the movements of his hands for the first few bars of the melody before he trusted himself to look up, shooting me a small smile as he did so.

Even with no sheet music in front of him, and despite the fact that he apparently hadn't played for a while, Blaine was _amazing_. Somehow, he had not only learnt to play _Hey, Soul Sister_ off by heart, but he had managed to perform the song so well that I forgot the reasons I brought him to the music room in the first place.

He put so much passion and energy into everything he sung, even when trapped behind a piano. Every so often he'd accidently hit the wrong key on the piano, yet Blaine even made _that_ adorable. Whenever it happened he'd momentarily bite his lip or frown or grimace –all of which looked unreasonably cute, but he never let it distract from his singing.

Vocally, every single note was perfect. Despite his facial expressions causing me to have to force back laughter at some points, there were times when I swore he was singing the lines right _to me_. Things like _I wouldn't forget you _and _you gave my life direction. _I tried to convince myself that I was imagining it, but there were some lyrics that just seemed to be made for us:

_You're the only one I'm dreaming of _

_You see, I can be myself now finally_

_In fact there's nothing I can't be_

_I want the world to see you be with me_

Just as I was finally allowing myself to wonder if Blaine might feel the same way about me as I did for him, the song finished, and he turned towards me fully.

"That was awful, wasn't it?" Clearly the duff notes had annoyed him way more than necessary.

I went to assure him that it was the total opposite, but someone beat me to it.

"Are you _serious? _That was _awesome!"_

I have never seen someone stand up as quickly as Blaine shot up from his chair. "I-" He stammered, glancing past me to the doorway, where I knew without turning around there were two people standing.

Still apparently incapable of forming a coherent sentence, he turned back to me, communicating without words. _Are you responsible for this?_

"You never did get round to auditioning for the Warblers." I said, as a way of explanation.

It had been my idea. After seeing Blaine sing that one time, I could tell how much he loved it, and while I may not have known the reasons that he refrained from joining in the first place, I was almost certain that they were no longer existent, or at least didn't matter anymore.

Wes and David had said that unsure of how to approach him, and Blaine didn't even _realize_ how much he wanted to talk to his old friends again, so I interfered.

Sure, tracking down the two boys and secretly arranging for them to come down to the music room at a specific time without telling them why had been difficult, and then there was the matter of making sure that Blaine was in said location and singing at exactly the right moment… but if it made him happy, it was worth it.

Blaine switched his gaze back to the open door, blinking as though he wasn't sure to trust that this was real. This sort of thing didn't happen to him, and he was already under the impression that no one cared about him anymore.

Well, it was about time that all changed.

"How's it going, Anderson?"

Suddenly, the shock disappeared, and snapping out of his reverie, Blaine strolled right over to the door, and straight into the arms of Wes and David.

"Welcome to the Warblers." David greeted, the two council members wrapping Blaine in an immediate hug.

I watched them embrace, smiled at the elated grins on their faces, and I thought, even if I did leave, _he's gonna be okay._

That's all that really mattered.

**End Author's Note:** So, you all know that _Hey, Soul Sister_ is by_ Train,_ but I'll just say it anyway. I had a different song in mind at first, but then I realized that it wouldn't really work with a piano and the lyrics to _Hey, Soul Sister_ fit even better. I'd say it worked out pretty well, don't you think?

Next chapter is going to be _big,_ and although I mean that regarding the plot, I assume that the length of the chapter will also be larger than this one, so you have that to look forward to soon.

What did you think? Reviews make my day. ;D


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